Brave New World
by Phoenix Moon 13
Summary: An AU in which the Mayor won back in season 3. Two years on, Buffy and the survivors - as well as a couple of other familiar faces - are the only resistance to the regime. But what will happen to them if Faith wakes up?
1. Chapter 1

**_Brave New World  
_Chapter One**

Author's Note: This is the prelude which tells you what's happened in the two years since Graduation. Dawn is used in this fic 'cause I needed a few more girls. This is two years after the battle.

* * *

Buffy Ann Summers was twenty years old. And she was already tired of life. This life, anyway. She cast her eyes over her troops and sighed. They were an army, when did that happen? What happened to being people?

Army, she thought with an ironic smile. A group of bedraggled resistance fighters, that's all they were. The real US army had entered Sunnydale over a year ago. Some branch called the Initiative that the government sent. But the Mayor soon took care of that. Every soldier that didn't have the sense to run, he had killed. Even Riley Finn, who had vowed to join Buffy's "army" and help them.

Buffy leaned heavily against the wall and her mind wandered. Inevitably, it was to the battle two years ago her mind rested on, and the events since…

Her plan had been crazy, she knew that. But they had backed her. It was going to be fine. Everything was going to go to plan.

Only it didn't.

Somehow, the Mayor sensed it was a trick.

"Hey! You remember this? I took it from Faith. Stuck it in her gut. Just slid in her like she was butter….You want to get it back from me. Dick?"

And she had run, skidding into the building and running for all she was worth. But the Mayor didn't follow. Instead, he gnashed at a group of vampires and tossed his head in her direction. She only realised the plan hadn't worked when she glanced back and saw ten vampires tailing her instead of the Mayor. She slowed and used her own momentum to spin into a kick that knocked two vampires over. She wrenched a stake out of her pocket and attacked, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.

She knew even then that they had failed, but some small part of her rebelled against it. They were the _good_ guys; they were the ones that were supposed to win. Where were the Powers That Be, how could they let the bad guys win?

There had to be a way.

Looking back, she realised it was probably these thoughts that threw her off. After a while, she realised she was being overpowered, drowning in vampires. She barely heard Giles yell her name as he ran into the building and began attacking the vampires.

Thankful for his presence, she attacked with new ferocity and _made_ herself believe they would win. Because they _had_ to.

When the last vampire had dusted, she had turned to Giles for advice when she realised there was a vampire missing. She had stared around at the explosives packed into the library and grabbed Giles, dragging him up the stairs to a window. She smashed it open and saw the vampire racing toward the plunger. She had thrown herself out of the window, but she had been too late, staking him even as he activated the explosives.

It was like she turned in slow motion and saw Giles throw himself from the window, the explosion pushing him further than his leap would have. He had landed in a crumpled heap, but he was alive. He told her to save the others, to call a retreat. She swore to him she would come back to him before leaving to find the others.

Buffy had thought she had seen a lot. But it was… It was carnage. Bodies lay heaped and broken. Some with neck wounds and others killed by the explosion. Other students ran for their lives, chased by laughing vampires.

Her eyes ran over the bodies of her classmates and her knees turned to jelly when she saw the familiar faces of Xander and Cordelia. Xander's face no longer laughing and joking, Cordelia's face no longer sneering or mooning at Wesley. Their faces were bloodied and bruised, one of Xander's arms slung over Cordelia in what Buffy saw as a desperate attempt to save her life.

Instead, it ended both of theirs.

She forced down the bile that rose in her throat and pushed forward, toward Oz who was locked in combat with a vampire. She ran toward and saw him knocked unconscious she staked the vampire and turned. She saw Wesley, his fingers twitching slightly and his eyes blinking. She reached down and grabbed his arm, yanking him to his feet even as she scanned the crowd and saw Willow and Angel back to back. Willow was hacking furiously as the remaining vampires attacked, Angel obviously sticking close by to protect her.

"Wesley," she had said urgently, shaking him to get him to focus, drawing a shout of pain from him. "Listen! You wanted to do something! This is nothing, Wesley! You're alive, that's more than can be said for - Listen to me, get Oz and Willow to Angel's mansion! GO!"

His eyes had taken in the loss and he realised that it was over, they had lost. So he had stumbled forward, dragging Oz away from the battlefield, calling to Willow who was crying as she hacked with the sword she had taken from a dead student. The two of them half carried, half-dragged Oz toward the mansion.

Buffy went to Angel's side, ignoring for now the Mayor who was gloatingly gorging on the bodies. The two of them took out the last vampires and when Buffy staked her final opponent, she looked back at Angel, hoping for help in her last stand against the Mayor. But as she turned, Angel was knocking his last opponent to one side and racing toward the Mayor, his demon snarling.

The Mayor looked up from his meal to watch - as did Buffy, who had frozen in terror - as the last vampire snatched a crossbow from the hand of a student.

And fired a bolt into Angel's back.

Into his heart.

"No!" she had screamed as Angel turned back to her, his hand clutching the arrow that protruded through his chest, his face melting back to human.

"Buffy," he had said. "I love -"

But his words were lost in a scream of dust. She had choked and looked up at the Mayor.

"You lose," he had said in a hoarser version of his old cheery tone.

"Wait and see," she had yelled and turned, running as he dove on her, sliding along after her. She leaped the bodies and ran toward where Giles lay. She heard the Mayor's mocking laughter as he let her go and felt her knees liquefy again as tears ran down her face unchecked.

She had fallen by Giles's side and started to pull him up into her arms. She froze when she realised he wasn't breathing.

For the first time since becoming the Slayer, Buffy Summers screamed in grief, loss and rage.

Turning back to the Mayor, she stared at him, cursing him, swearing revenge. Then she walked away and left him to his meal.

She didn't go to the mansion, she went home, praying her mom had left a telephone number she could call to warn her not to come back. If she had thought the battle would not reach her home, she was wrong.

A note pinned to her front door read _For Faith,_ and the door swung open easily beneath her fingertips to reveal her sister curled, shaking and rocking on the bottom of the stairs.

Through the gibberish her thirteen year old sister babbled, Buffy could make out only one thing, "Mom's not breathing, Buffy. She's not breathing."

And she bundled her sister into her arms and left her house without a backward glance.

Back at the mansion, she found Wesley tending to Oz, talking quietly to Willow as she sobbed beside him, clutching Oz's hand.

"Buffy?"

Willow had looked up and ran to her friend, wrapping her arms around her and Dawn.

"We lost," Buffy had said numbly as Wesley drew Dawn away to check for shock. "We're the only ones left."

"Angel?" Wesley asked in increasing panic. "Giles? Xander?"

"All gone," Buffy whispered."Cordelia too. The Mayor wins."

Wesley gulped and turned back to Dawn.

Willow sank to the floor beside Oz.

And Buffy… Buffy cried.

* * *

Buffy could not tell you how long she remained in that tortured limbo, she could only tell you that those first days were the hardest days of her life. She lived in the mansion with Wesley, Willow, Oz and Dawn, only ever venturing out to bury the bodies of her friends and mother in her back garden, beneath the rose bush, steal food and lurk at the back of the crowd at the Mayor's meeting with Wesley.

Buffy could tell you that losing her friends, her Watcher, her mother and the man she loved ached. But she could never describe the gut wrenching pain and the feeling that this was all her fault.

She watched her town crumble, swallowed by demons, shut off from the rest of the country and the world. She had watched it all and blamed herself.

Until the day she heard two demons talking, laughing and mocking her efforts. The efforts of her dead friends who had died Heroes.

She had returned to the mansion with new purpose. She pulled her fellow survivors together and created the first resistance, even teaching her sister how to handle a weapon. Thirteen-years-old was far too young and Buffy knew that, but Dawn had listened to her mother die as she hid and this army needed every one they could get.

Even scared little girls in pain, forced to grow up too quickly. They needed everyone.

Six months after the battle, they received three new members to their cause. Anya Jenkins returned to Sunnydale after meeting the half-demon Alan Francis Doyle, who revealed to her he had been sent by the Powers That Be to help the resistance in Sunnydale. Another Witch, Tara Maclay, had been running away from home and when she met Anya and Doyle. Through her frightened stutter, she offered her services. Anya, for her faults, came back though she knew the Mayor had won because of her strange feelings for Xander Harris.

Buffy had seen them whilst out on her usual patrol for people living just outside the Sunnydale border and had called the rest of the team to make sure the latest members returned safely. Buffy had learnt that outside Sunnydale, the Mayor had no power and could not leave the boundaries of the place from where he drew his strength.

When the gang arrived, the Mayor's men had tailed them.

They had fought. But it was something they did almost daily. Only this time, it seemed the people the lackeys were after were in fact Doyle and Tara. Recognising a fellow Witch, Willow had grabbed Tara's hand.

"Do you know a protection spell?" she had asked urgently.

"Y-yes."

"Help me."

Above the sounds of the fight, Buffy could hear chanting, a brief glance back had told her the two Witches were creating a palpable energy field that pulsed out to surround the resistance. But a demon knocked Wesley to one side and made for the Witches.

Oz had turned in time to see the claws raise to strike Willow down. With a wolf-like roar, he leapt on the demon, dragging it to the ground.

But though his sword gutted the demon, his neck was broken.

Another warrior was lost in the cause.

And yet more tears were shed.

After Oz's death, Willow had shut down. She rarely came out of her shell and the spark had faded from her eyes. Buffy and Dawn tried to coax her out of her shell and Wesley also expressed his concern. But the only time Willow came briefly back to life was to practice spells with Tara and receive magickal knowledge from Wesley who, despite his previous oafishness, was quite knowledgeable on the subject.

Wesley warned Buffy that Willow was powerful. She knew what he was saying. Willow would want revenge and Wesley wasn't sure if Willow would ever come back from it. Though it seemed the quiet Witch, Tara, was anchoring her for the time being.

A month after Tara, Doyle and Anya's arrival, William the Bloody returned on the heels of the Intiative, who had set up their operation on the Sunnydale border.

Having been in Mexico since he last saw Buffy, he hadn't heard of the change in Sunnydale's fortunes. He had merely returned for another crack at the Slayer. Instead, he ran into the soldiers and was consequently chipped, used as a guinea pig for the military's experiments. When he escaped the soldiers, her found a welcoming committee sent by the Mayor, a vastly more effective set of demons than last time he had visited Sunnydale, back when Angel had still been alive. Buffy and Willow had been patrolling and had saved Spike, not realising who he was.

He was unconscious when they pushed him into the back of the car and it was only when Buffy turned in her seat as Willow floored the accelerator that she recognised him. But his legs and spine were broken and Willow pointed out that while he couldn't hurt them, they could get information out of him about what was going on outside Sunnydale, if anyone was going to try and help.

Both knew this vain hope had faded months ago.

But Spike knew nothing and was forced back into a wheelchair when Willow begged Buffy not to stake him while he was helpless. The only reason Buffy did as Willow asked was because Willow seemed almost herself again whilst she tended to the grumpy vampire. After a while, Buffy noticed Spike's insults became almost fond and once, she actually heard Willow laugh again.

And anyway, Buffy had more important things to think about. Like the fact that the military thought they could take down the Mayor. Their biggest mistake was experimenting on some of the Mayor's lackies.

Even Buffy couldn't save them and the Initiative was wiped out.

When Spike was up and about once more, he existed on the blood bags that the military dropped on a weekly basis along with food and supplies. Riley Finn had arranged this only days before his death at the hands of the Mayor himself. It was the only help provided, as the rest of the country decided to ignore the Sunnydale situation after what happened to the best soldiers in the Initiative.

Spike swore allegiance to the resistance in a bid to get his revenge on the bastards who had forced him into a wheelchair again.

Buffy didn't give a damn about his reasons; all she cared about was the fact she had someone strong on her side. But she didn't trust him. None of them did until he saved Willow and Wesley from a Fyarl demon, putting his own unlife at risk barely weeks after he left the wheelchair.

So things remained almost calm, with Buffy and her friends keeping to the mansion and the small area surrounding it, only venturing out to patrol at night, aiding the escape of many Sunnydale residents. Sunnydale was split, the Mayor allowing the people the run of the town during the daylight hours, but as soon as dusk fell, it was the devil's playground. Many had tried to run and the Mayor had killed them all. The rest gave up hope and tried to go about their daily lives, oppressed and beaten. The Mayor let the humans live, unless they strayed outside at night, and he never did anything about demons killing during the day. This was a demon's town now after all.

The only humans he and his followers openly hunted in the daylight hours were Buffy and her army.

They also hunted the US army when they rolled into town a year after Graduation. They had big plans to kill all the demons, defeat the Mayor and return Sunnydale to the humans. They failed miserably and there were yet more bodies for the night crawlers to feed on.

And with each body, Buffy's rage mounted.

But somehow, in all the mayhem and death and chaos, some light shone through.

Occasionally, Buffy and Dawn would forget the loss of their mother and waltz around the mansion with Wesley. And sometimes, Buffy forgot the aching hole in her heart where Angel had been and allowed herself to laugh. There were times when Willow and Anya could talk about Xander without breaking down, times Wesley could admit he had started to fall in love with Cordelia, times Buffy could remember Giles without blaming herself.

And sometimes, people looked at each other and saw something new.

Tara had long ago admitted to Doyle that she had fallen in love with Willow. Somewhere between the fighting and the hiding and the fear, she had grown to be in awe of her magickal partner's power. She had grown to trust and respect her.

And somewhere along the line, this had blossomed into love.

But Tara was aware of Willow's feelings for Oz and she had not said a word, preferring Willow's friendship, the occasional hug and hand-hold to anything that could destroy their friendship. And now, a year and a half after her arrival in Sunnydale, Tara's feelings continued to grow.

But Tara had not noticed Spike.

Spike had grown quite fond of the redhead whilst he was crippled. She was the one that checked his legs; tested if he could feel and gave him stolen brandy when it hurt so bad he could barely see. And after a while, he stopped wanting to kill her and her friends and saw this group of people as his only way of getting back at the people who had made him weak.

Willow was the only one who had trusted him enough to patrol with him, and now, though he was now a somewhat trusted member of the group, he still preferred to patrol with the Witch.

The night was balmy and the streets deserted, as they always were when night fell. Spike wondered why they bothered to patrol, what human would be stupid enough to leave their house at night? And he said as much to Willow.

"Maybe they might be sick of waiting, living like this. Maybe they wanna end it by any means possible," Willow answered emotionlessly as they strolled along the street.

"There's that great kamikaze spirit again," Spike retorted, twirling his stake and glancing at her. "You sound like you fancy a look round the Mayor's insides."

"Sometimes I do," she shrugged. "After Oz died, it was all I could think about. Revenge."

"'Cause being a tasty snack for the Mayor's a great revenge," he snapped, agitation niggling at his shoulders. "What are you going to do, give him a stomach ache?"

"Hey, coming from Mr-I'll-Kill-You-'Cause-You-Broke-My-Legs-And-Spine, that's not very mind changing. Anyway, who said he'd eat me? I could take him."

Spike snorted.

"What? What that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"Just that… Yeah, ok, Red, you're pretty strong, but you're not ready to take on the Mayor yet. None of us are."

"What would you know? You've not seen all I can do!" she protested, throwing up her hands.

"I've seen enough," he replied calmly, eyeing her thoughtfully.

"Yeah, you had plenty of time to see when you were in that wheelchair of yours."

"Shut up, Willow. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes I do! You're jealous. Jealous that I'm the only one that might have a chance against the Mayor. You hate that I'm stronger than you!"

"You bloody well are not!"

"What you gonna do, huh? Bite me? Go on, I've been waiting for this Mr-Nice-Guy act to drop. Oh, you can't. The chip. Huh."

Spike stopped and she turned to look at him. He glared at her; breathing hard and wondering why the fact that she didn't trust him hurt so damn much.

"You don't trust me?" he asked.

"I didn't say -"

"That's what you meant!" he yelled. "Fine, you don't trust me! I'll just leave you here, you dumb bint! Let the night time nasties have a taste!"

"Go on, see if I care, you big lug!"

"I'm not the one who wants to get the Mayor and doesn't rightly care if she dies in the process!"

"Oh, like you care!"

"I soddin' well do as it happens!"

She stared at him for a moment, before chortling a little.

"Spike, you don't care about anyone."

"Fine. I don't care. Just remember, Red, you don't know me and you never have," he turned on his heel and started to walk away, calling over his shoulder, "but I know you and the sooner you get over wolf-boy, the happier you'll -"

A bolt of energy zipped up his back, knocking him to the floor. She was glaring down at him when he rolled over.

"You don't know anything about me and Oz," she hissed. "Nothing! You don't know what it's like to lose someone you love! You don't know what I feel or why I don't give a damn anymore! You don't -"

He jumped up and grabbed her upper arms, staring intensely into her eyes.

"I do, as it happens," he said and kissed her hard on the lips.

* * *

Buffy leaned over the balcony railing, having moved out of the main room to the upper levels while her thoughts took her on a miserable jaunt down memory lane. She wondered when Willow and Spike would get back from patrol, hoping they were ok.

Wesley approached her slowly and leaned on the balcony beside. It was strange, she decided, that not only had Wesley become a trusted ally and good fighter, but he had become a close friend. He was barely recognisable from the pompous oaf he had been two years ago. He glanced at her and smiled a little.

"Thinking?" he asked.

"Yes."

"You shouldn't think too much about the past."

"The past is what brought us here, Wes. While we're here, I can't forget it."

"I know that. But I worry that it's tearing you apart."

"I can handle it," he didn't answer that and there was a silence until she said. "There's a battle coming, y'know."

"I know."

"One day, we're gonna have to fight the Mayor if we ever want this town back."

"We'll just have to make sure we fight on our terms and when we're ready," he nodded.

"And if it's not on our terms, and we're not ready?" she asked, facing him.

He looked at her, then glanced backwards, towards the sounds of sparring downstairs.

"We'll still stand a fighting chance. And at least, we'll go out fighting," he grinned.

She smiled at that.

"We have to be ready soon. I can't stand much more of this."

"Neither can I. Buffy, I've been thinking…" he returned his gaze to the night sky and let his voice tail off.

"Yeah? What about?"

"Faith," she was silent and he hesitated before continuing. "One day, she may wake up. What then?"

Buffy looked at him, the stony face of a Slayer who was waiting for her moment.

"Then, if it hasn't started already, the war begins."


	2. Chapter 2

**_Brave New World  
_Chapter Two **

Things were complicated. They had been for a while. The line between good and evil had blurred so much, Willow could hardly see it and she was starting to question whether life had really been as black and white as she once thought. Nowadays, she only ever saw grey. She knew things were complicated, she _knew_ that. But one thing she had always been clear on was the fact she still loved Oz.

Now, she was even starting to question that.

If someone had asked her two years ago - say on Prom night - what she thought she would be doing in two years time, she would have had all the answers. She would have said she would be doing well in UC Sunnydale, spending her evenings with Oz, her weekends cheering the Dingoes on, her magick would have improved and she would be using it to help Buffy in the fight against evil.

So far, she only had two out of that selection, her magick had improved and she was using it to help Buffy.

Two years ago, she wouldn't have even thought about Spike, let alone considered the possibility that Spike would be kissing her. Or that she would be kissing him back.

But she was. And she was mentally noting the fact that his lips were not cold, not warm, but a pleasant in-between. She was savouring the feeling of being in someone's arms again. And she was silently screaming that she shouldn't be doing this, to think about Oz. But it was not thoughts of Oz or the fact she was kissing a neutered vampire that pulled her from the kiss. It was the sounds of boots thundering down the sidewalk.

She pulled away from Spike, sharing only a brief look with him before they both turned to watch a young blonde man stride down the street, his fingers clenching angrily.

"Hey!" Willow called, running over to him. "Hey, you shouldn't be out here. It's not safe."

The boy turned tear filled blue eyes to her and breathed heavily through his clenched teeth.

"I _know_," he said.

"So why don't you go on home, mate," Spike said, before his eyes lowered to the blood stains on the man's t-shirts. "Oh. What's happened to you then?"

"They killed him!" the young man cried. "He was all I had left and they killed him."

"Killed who?" Willow asked, touching his arm.

He wrenched away from her and the tears ran freely down his cheeks.

"My brother!" he screamed. "Mom and Dad have gone and he was all I had! But he's gone!"

"Ok, ok," Willow soothed. "What's your name?"

"Andrew," he answered sullenly. "And I know who you are and you can tell the Slayer that no one will stop me."

"Stop you doing something stupid, I suppose you mean," Spike sighed, grabbing Andrew's arm and tugging him along beside him as Willow ran to catch up with him.

"Spike, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Getting him back to HQ," he replied. "Can't have the boy out here on his own."

"I'm not a boy!" Andrew protested. "Let me go! I'm gonna kill him!"

But Spike didn't answer and Willow tailed silently after them, keeping an eye out for vampires. Anything to stop herself thinking about what would happen once she and Spike were alone together again.

* * *

"Buffy!" Dawn yelled up the stairs. "Spike and Willow are back, and they've got someone with them!"

Buffy left her room and descended the stairs, smiling at her sister. God, she had grown. She had turned fourteen only one week after Graduation and here she was, a tall, slender sixteen-year-old. A beautiful young woman, with shoulder skimming brunette hair and large, challenging blue eyes set in a pale face that rarely saw the sun.

Buffy opened the main door, heaving the wooden barricade to one side to allow Willow and Spike in. She eyed the person they brought with them sceptically, but said nothing. The entry hall filled up and Buffy shut the door before turning back to their new guest.

"So who are you?" she asked finally.

He didn't answer.

"His name's Andrew," Spike said. "Apparently he's Tucker's brother, but that means nothing to me."

"Tucker's brother?" Buffy asked. "As in Hell-Hound Tucker?"

"Yep," Willow nodded. "He was murdered early this evening."

Buffy noted the bloodstains on Andrew's shirt and approached him, touching the still wet stains.

"And you found him, did ya?" Doyle asked, looking sympathetically at the young man.

Andrew nodded.

"Ah," Doyle sighed. "That's a bitter pill to - Arrgaah!"

Dawn and Anya grabbed hold of him as he stumbled backwards clutching his head. They helped him to the floor and the rest of the group gathered, Tara disappearing to fetch a glass of water.

When the vision passed and Doyle was sitting up right, asking Tara for something stronger, he glanced back to Andrew, then to the group.

"Dick had a reason," he told them.

"What?" Willow asked. "The Mayor had a reason for what?"

"Killing the kid's brother."

Andrew stepped closer to Doyle, his hand shaking as he pointed at him.

"Tell me," he demanded. "Why did he kill my brother?"

"He was a threat," Doyle answered, rubbing his forehead. "He kept raising demons, didn't he, kid?"

"Yeah," Andrew said and frowned. "He said he was going to help you guys take out the Mayor. That's why he wanted to raise up the demons."

"Yeah, well, old Richard decided he couldn't be having that," Doyle continued. "So he removed the threat."

"He killed him," Andrew whimpered, the fight leaving him as he sank to the floor and broke into fresh sobs.

Dawn abandoned her place beside Doyle and took Andrew's shoulders.

"Hey, it's gonna be ok. You can stay here with us. We're gonna take the Mayor down."

Andrew looked up at her through tear soaked lashes.

"Then I'm gonna help you," he stated.

* * *

Willow left her bed when the sun rose. She left her room silently, though she needn't have bothered as Anya - her roommate - had spent the night in Doyle's room, fussing over him like a mother hen and her other roommate, Tara, was sound asleep.

Willow sank into the shadows into the hall, a habit. She remembered days spent in the sunshine, where she was sure she was safe. Now the only place she felt safe was in the shadows where no one could see her.

She slipped into the kitchen and turned to leave again as soon as she saw the white-blonde head, leaning over the table, nursing a mug of blood.

"Stay a while, Red," he said without looking round. "Plenty of room for the both of us."

She hesitated before crossing the kitchen and bustled around making herself a cup of coffee. He declined to make small talk and she was almost grateful, until she realised, that left only one thing open for discussion.

"I couldn't sleep," he stated after a while. "I kept thinking about that boy. He could be a liability. The Mayor wants his brother dead, what's gonna stop him coming after him? And us?"

"The Mayor's been after us since Graduation," Willow answered, grateful that he hadn't mentioned their kiss. "I don't think having Andrew here is gonna put us at risk."

"Yeah," Spike shrugged. "I was only really saying that to fill the silence. Still, I didn't sleep last night," she sat down opposite him with her coffee and he pinned her gaze. She almost squirmed beneath its intensity, but prevented herself. She found herself almost enjoying his stare before his eyes rose and came to rest on her hair. "And I see you didn't sleep too well either."

She blushed and patted at her hair self-conciously, but his cool hand closed around her wrist.

"I like it," he said.

"Spike, I -"

"I'm not asking you for anything, Willow," he cut in. "It's up to you what you do about last night, but how about you think on it, before making your decision?"

"If you'd listen," she said, frowning at him, but her soft smile took the edge away. "I would have said that I needed time to think. But, thank you for that."

"Don't worry," he shrugged, "but I think you should know that I -"

"… God, woman!" the Irish voice snapped, as Doyle entered the kitchen, batting Anya's attentions away. "Will you listen to me? I'm fine! It's not the first vision; it won't be the last! And it was last night! I'm fine now! For God's sake, will you point those painkillers somewhere else!"

Spike chuckled and grinned at Doyle who was wrestling a pack of painkillers away from Anya, who was insisting he take them for the vision-headache.

"You're fighting a losing battle there, Doyle, mate," he pointed out.

"Don't I know it," Doyle answered, sinking down beside Spike and shaking his head at Anya who, having given up on the painkillers, was making him some coffee. "But I can help it if I bring out the nurturing side of women? Even if Anya's more crazy woman than nurturing," he muttered.

"I heard that, Alan Francis Doyle!" she snapped, placing his mug down a little too heavily and spilling some of the coffee.

"Aw, Anya," Doyle smiled. "You know I love you really."

"Huh," she said, sweeping out of the room.

Doyle shook his head and sipped his coffee, and then frowned at Willow's mussed hair and slight blush that flared whenever she glanced up at Spike.

"What's up, Rosenburg?" he asked. "You look like Spike's just tackled you across the kitchen."

* * *

The mansion was just beginning to come to life, but the Mayor's home had been awake for some time. Richard Wilkins III settled in the chair opposite the bed. He was in his human form and he picked his teeth with a toothpick, removing the results of the previous nights meals.

"One thing about being a snake," he said conversationally. "You have to wait until you get hands again before you can get the flesh out of your teeth."

The person in the bed didn't answer and the Mayor's cheerful grin faded. He leaned forward and was about to beg the occupant of the bed to wake up, as he had done every day for the past two years, when her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright in bed.

The Mayor's smile grew and he rang the bell at the side of the bed.

"Welcome back, Faith," he said, taking her hand and smiling at her shocked and disorientated face. "I've got so much to tell you…"


	3. Chapter 3

**_Brave New World  
_Chapter Three**

Wesley had grown up. He thought this had occurred immediately after Graduation. He remembered Buffy dragging him to his feet and screaming at him to get Oz and Willow to safety. He remembered the horror in her voice, the pain in her eyes, the tremour in her hands.

He should have known when she spoke that they had lost, but he hadn't believed it. Then he looked around, saw the bodies of the students, saw vampires bearing down on Angel and Willow, the only two still fighting. He saw the bodies tossed toward the Mayor. He saw that they had lost. So he pushed himself over to Oz, grabbing hold of his shoulders to hoist him up and drag him away. He remembered thinking that there was still a chance. If Buffy and Angel were still standing, there was a chance that they could still stop the Mayor.

It wasn't until they were back at the mansion that everything truly hit him. Willow was inconsolable. Her sobs were gut wrenching as she held Oz's hand, while Wesley found Angel's First Aid kit and tended to the cut on Oz's head. He could barely make out Willow's words. Most of them anyway.

"Oh, God," she had choked. "Oh God. They're all dead. Xander's dead, Xander's gone. Cordelia too, oh God, Cordelia's dead!"

He felt the bottom fall out of his stomach, his hand faltering over Oz's head. He couldn't quite believe it. When Buffy returned with Dawn and announced grimly that they had lost, that she, Dawn, Willow, Oz and himself were the only ones left, he still didn't believe it.

"Angel?" he had asked. "Giles? Xander?"

He couldn't bring himself to ask about Cordelia. He was barely able to comprehend that Angel had not survived, he couldn't bear the thought of losing Cordelia. But Buffy's next words broke his heart.

"All gone," she whispered. "Cordelia too. The Mayor wins."

He had returned his attentions to Dawn, who was seated in a chair in white-faced, shivering shock. He fought tears, fought the pain in his chest that made him want to scream. Dawn's hand had curled around his and she clung to it tightly, as her eyes welled with tears.

He remembered feeling terrible in those next few days. He watched Buffy and Dawn mourn the loss of their mother and the entire group mourn the loss of their friends. He had barely known them and though their deaths upset him, he was the only one who did not sit in stony silence, he was the only one who didn't break down and scream.

He was the one that grew up suddenly and did all he could. He made meals from the food Buffy stole, he checked they all ate, he checked to make sure Oz did not have concussion and made sure Dawn's shock passed.

But it was Buffy that scared him the most. She cried only once, after returning with Dawn, she had sank to the floor and sobbed. After that, she settled into silence. Barely speaking and hardly eating. He worried about her.

He thought that was when he and Buffy started to become friends. After days of tip toeing around her and the others, she finally spoke to him.

"Thank you," she said, as he handed her a plate. "For everything. I know it's not been easy. But I'm grateful. We all are."

It was three weeks before Buffy pulled herself out of her sea of despair and announced that they were the resistance. He could not remember being so happy as when she said that. For a moment, he saw the Slayer he had first met and for a while, he didn't care if she treated him with the utmost contempt if she finally came back to life.

From then on, he didn't feel so much of an outsider. Buffy trained them all as a group and he was part of that team. For the first time in a long while, he felt part of something. He wished Cordelia could see him now. God, he missed her.

"Wesley, man."

Wesley turned and faced Doyle, who lounged in the doorway of his room.

"Hello, Doyle," Wesley said, offering the half demon a slight smile.

"You been thinking about that girl again?" he asked, entering the room with his hands jammed in his pockets. "Seems everyone likes to remember the bad times."

"People they've lost more than the bad times themselves," Wesley said.

"You've gotta move on," Doyle told him.

"I have," Wesley shrugged. "I just like to remember sometimes. Otherwise, it's like none of them ever existed."

"Well, if you ever want to talk..." Doyle offered.

"I know, much appreciated, Doyle. I suppose you've come to tell me training's started?"

"Yeah, Anya's charging around with a sword and having a right go at that Andrew kid. And Spike's working with Willow, Dawn and Tara. Thought you might wanna spar with me."

"Oh, right. Come one then. Wait, where's Buffy?"

"She went out."

"She went out?" Wesley echoed in disbelief. "Without back up?"

"She's the Slayer, man," Doyle shrugged. "She'll be fine."

"I suppose you're right," Wesley sighed. "I suppose I worry too much."

"Hey, you said it."

* * *

She felt uncomfortable in her skin. The denim jeans and cotton shirt felt heavy. In fact, her entire body felt heavy, but alive at the same time. She wanted to get out and work out her kinks, to fight again.

But first she wanted answers.

"What happened?" she asked, sitting down opposite him.

"A lot, Faith," the Mayor smiled. "A lot. We won!"

"So I figured," Faith said, relaxing slightly at his familiar smile. "So what happened?"

"Well, after that bitch put you in a coma, she tried to take me down," the Mayor's voice took on an edge and his fingers dug into the arms of his chair. "But it didn't work."

"She's dead?" Faith asked, feeling her stomach flip flop at the thought. "They're all dead?"

"Oh no," The Mayor picked up a file from the table beside him and flicked through it. "She's very much alive. But most of the rest didn't survive."

"Angel? Willow, Oz? Xander, Cordelia?" Faith asked urgently.

"The red head's still alive," the Mayor scanned the file. "And the Watcher."

"Giles?"

"The other one."

"_Wesley?_"

"I thought that'd amuse you," he grinned. "The Slayer's sister's still alive and a few others showed up. Another witch, a half-demon, an ex-demon. Oh, and Spike. A vampire. He's working with them. Some military people showed up about the same time he did and neutered him. All in all, they're quite the motley crew."

"The military?" Faith raised her eyebrows. "Bet you had fun with them."

"Oh yeah, but gristly, y'know?" he shuddered slightly.

"So, how did it go down? The change?"

"You'll have to wait and see," he grinned. "But for now, it's just me, Faith," he stood up, opening his arms wide. "Now, c'mere."

She stood up and sank into his embrace. It felt good to be home.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Four**

It was good to be outside again. Faith shook her arms and sauntered down the street, throwing her arms out to surrender herself to the night, where she belonged.

But she felt a little lost. She was Slayer, that's where her power came from. Now though, she didn't have anything to slay. But the Mayor said she could have his demons, she could be the one to keep the town under control. She chuckled when she remembered that he said people tried to escape over the border. But her face hardened when she remembered that he had also said most of them got away, thanks to Buffy and her friends.

Her fists clenched. God, she couldn't wait to get her hands on that bitch. She felt like crying when the Mayor revealed she had been out of the game for two years.

Faith whirled suddenly, slamming her fist into the brick wall of a house. Two fucking years! She'd never get those years back. No, this time, Buffy Summers had screwed up majorly and Faith couldn't wait to take her down.

But first, she was going to pay back the rest. She was going to find out about Buffy's _army_.

Huh. Faith had to laugh at that. Army. Buffy always thought she was better than anyone, and if anyone could create an army out of a group of terrified amateurs, then L'il Miss Summers would, by gum!

Faith laced her fingers and stretched her arms out.

Yeah, she was gonna have some fun.

* * *

"Wes?"

Wesley pushed his sword hard against Doyle's, slightly harder than he intended, banging the half-demon into the wall. He offered Doyle an apologetic smile as Doyle rubbed his neck.

"Yes, Dawn?" Wesley asked, turning lowering his sword.

She twirled her sword easily, a nervous gesture, though a good display of swords-womanship nonetheless.

"Buffy's gone out," Dawn said, nibbling her lip.

"So I heard," Wes answered.

"Why does she keep doing this?" Dawn asked.

"I'll be back soon, Doyle," Wes said and Doyle nodded, going to help Spike with Willow and Tara.

Wes took Dawn's shoulder, steering her out of the main room and into the entrance hall. Dawn sank onto the stairs.

"You're the only one I can talk to," Dawn started. "It's like no one else notices how different she is."

"The others have their grief, sometimes they can't see beyond that. And others never knew her before all this. You can't blame them, Dawn, this isn't an ideal situation."

"I know that!" Dawn snapped. "But I can't get through to her. Sometimes I think the only person she hears is you. And even then, she doesn't _listen_. I get worried when she goes out on her own."

"She needs time alone sometimes," Wes answered, sitting down beside Dawn. "I worry about her too, y'know. But she has taken all this harder than anyone. Not only has she lost people, like all of us, but it was her job to protect them. She thinks she's failed."

"But she hasn't!" Dawn cried. "When is she going to see that?"

"When she has taken this town back, Dawnie."

"When is that going to happen?"

"That's up to Buffy. But first, before we can wage war, we have to get the civilians out. Which, considering that they don't trust us anymore than the Mayor, is difficult."

"They're stupid," Dawn muttered. "We could get them out. I don't get why they don't trust us."

"We blew up a school," Wes said, with a slight smile.

"That was a vampire," Dawn pointed out.

"They don't know that. And… a lot of people died as a result of that explosion," he winced. Cordelia had been one of them.

Dawn's hand sought his as it had two years ago on Graduation Day and countless days since. She put her arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Will you go find her?" she mumbled into his neck.

"Yes," Wes pulled away, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "If you go and check on Andrew, I daresay Anya's frightening the life out of him."

"Ok," Dawn grinned and stood, walking back toward the room where they trained.

"Dawn?"

She turned to face him, a smile on her face.

"We'll take care of Buffy together, ok?"

Her smile widened.

"Deal."

* * *

Buffy had come to loathe patrolling. She remembered a time when she enjoyed it. Back in the days when patrol meant illicit meetings with Angel or a way to work out her frustration, or just something she did while hanging out with Willow or Xander.

Sometimes she missed those days so much it hurt. Now the only people she had left from those days were Willow and Dawn.

She never counted Wesley when she counted the people remaining from her past. She barely thought of the Wesley she knew now as the one that first arrived in Sunnydale, anymore than she thought of Anya as Anyanka.

Buffy thought Anya grew up and changed over time while she was away. But she thought Wesley's change was quicker. She thought part of him died on Graduation Day. She knew what that felt like.

Buffy remembered a time when she laughed all the time.

She remembered cool lips that fanned a burning need inside her.

She remembered dark brown hair blowing in a breeze as its owner threw his head back in laughter.

She remembered glittering glasses, faintly disapproving eyes that crinkled around the corners in a smile.

She remembered deadpan answers, the melancholy strum of a guitar from the rooms upstairs.

She remembered softly curling greying hair and warm arms.

She remembered pain.

She kicked her feet along the floor, wrapping her arms around her waist. She hated this place. She used to call Sunnydale _her_ town, but that was laughable right now. It didn't belong to her; she didn't have any power.

People gave up escaping months ago. The whole group would wait at the border, hold off the enemy whenever they heard an escape was happening and came to stop them. But people gave up on trying to get away; too many people had died trying.

And after a little while, Buffy gave up on them.

It was hard trying to care about people who were barely able to care about themselves.

But she still patrolled, in case there was anyone out there that needed saving. But she didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to leave their homes after dark.

The Mayor called a meeting in the middle of the town a day later, in his human form and told the people of Sunnydale the way things were. Buffy and Wesley had gone to the meeting, leaving Willow and Oz to look after Dawn. They had hung back; hoping the Mayor would not notice them. The sun was too bright, Buffy had noted, for a day like that. There should have been rain, she had thought, because this was not a happy day, no matter what the Mayor said.

"This is a brave new world," he had proclaimed and it made Buffy want to throw up.

The Mayor told the people this was a glorious day for humans, vampires and demons. He told them that humans could have the town in the daylight hours, but they were to keep off the streets as soon as dusk fell. That, he had said with a friendly, if grim smile, was the only way he could protect them. Because if they left their homes after dark, well, his boys had to eat, didn't they?

No one believed him, people said he had gone mad.

Three families were slaughtered that first night, one family perished on the second evening. That made everyone believe and most made a run for it, most died, except for the few Buffy and her army managed to get away.

After that, everyone stuck to the rules.

Buffy didn't know how, but the Mayor managed to keep the supermarket fully stocked up. That was the only place anyone ever went. Kids grew up without an education, something the Mayor wasn't particularly happy about, but something, so he said, he could live with.

According to rumours, the Mayor had removed all traces of the rubble left of the school and built some kind of small temple over the Hellmouth. Buffy wasn't sure about that; she never went near the old school. She forbade the others to go near it too.

At night, the town was like a ghost town. A forced mockery of what it had been. People lives revolved around avoiding the dark hours and being careful during the days.

Staring around the dark streets, Buffy made the snap decision that this couldn't go on. For the first time in a long while, she felt a surge of protection for the few people that remained in the town.

There were five families left in Sunnydale and Buffy was going to get them the hell out. Then she was going to take the fight to the Mayor. She was done with waiting, wondering what had happened to Faith who was no longer in the hospital, which squatted looted and dusty three blocks from the Town Hall.

She was done with waiting for the Mayor to get sick of them and wage war. She was getting these people out of Sunnydale and she was reclaiming this town and her life.

"Buffy!"

She started to turn in the direction of Wesley's voice when she saw a flash of a familiar figure.

Leather pants, white top and flying brunette hair raced from an alley and around a corner, joyous laughter echoing, thanking the night sky for her freedom. She knew that figure, that familiar tension ready to spring out in a fight, on the dance floor or in the bedroom. There was a lust for life in that laughter.

But after two years in a coma, that was to be expected.

"Buffy," Wesley gasped, taking her shoulder and turning her around. "You shouldn't be out on your own. Dawn's worried sick."

"Yeah…" she said distantly, allowing him to pull her in the direction of the mansion.

It couldn't have been. Faith was dead, that's what they had decided. No one could be in a coma for two years and be fine, could they?

But deep down, in her gut, Buffy knew.

Faith was back.

The war was about to start.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Five**

"What do you miss most?" Dawn asked, grabbing another dry cracker from the packet on the table.

It was all they had enough to munch on until the weekly food drop arrived the next day.

"Huh?" Andrew asked, looking up from his steady perusal of the crumbs scattered across the table.

"Well, being here, we miss out on stuff. Like Doyle, he says he misses good Irish beer the most. Willow misses coffee at the Espresso Pump and nights at the Bronze. Wes says he misses chocolate and - duh - books. So, what do you miss?"

He refrained from answering that he missed his brother. It was true, but he figured Dawn was talking about material things. He heard her family and loads of her friends died, so he shrugged and went for the material side of things.

"I dunno," he tilted his head to the side and thought for a moment. "I guess I haven't read a graphic novel in two years, I miss that. The military drop food, sure, but they don't drop the latest _X-Men_. Or the new DVD of _Stargate._ And I wish I could have seen the_ X-Men_ movie. It came out last year, I think, I was looking forward to it. Who knows," he almost pouted, "they've probably got a sequel out by now. They might have Gambit in it. And Jubilee, I bet she's hot. How about you? What do you miss?"

"I miss…" Dawn considered it for a moment. "Music. For all I know, country has made a come back or the Waltons have formed a band and are taking over the world."

"Or the Beatles are back," Andrew added.

"Without Lennon?" Dawn frowned. "Never happen. I miss _Friends _too. I've missed, like, two of the new seasons. It might even have finished."

"Yeah," Andrew sank into a depression along with Dawn. "Hey, y'think Joey and Phoebe got it on, 'cause I always thought they'd be so great together."

"Really? When I said that to Willow, she totally freaked. She said Phoebe and Joey could never have a proper relationship 'cause they're both too wacky, which, coming from Willow… Oh and get this, Wesley insists that Phoebe was _made _for _Chandler_."

"That's…" Andrew searched for a word. "Just insane and wrong."

"_Tell_ me about it. But, hey, he's English. You've got to make allowances for him. At least he's not saying Ross and Chandler have all this un-resolved sexual tension, like Doyle."

"That's… Well, firstly, just _ew_ and secondly, Ross could never put up with Chandler like that. It would never work. Oh, did you ever watch -"

"Look lively, kids," Doyle poked his head around the door of the kitchen. "Big sis is back and she ain't happy."

Dawn scrambled out of the kitchen, pushing past Doyle, closely followed by Andrew. The gang where gathering at the entrance as they always did when someone came home. Spike hefted the barrier to one side and Buffy strode in, Wesley tailed after her, ashen faced, looking like he'd just got the absolute shock of his life.

"Buffy?" Dawn ventured hesitantly.

"Listen up!" Buffy said in ringing tones, ignoring her sister. "For two years, we've been hiding here, trying to help people, trying to survive. Is anyone else sick of it?" there was a stunned silence and Buffy glared at them, waiting for an answer. "Well?"

"Too bloody right we're sick of it, Slayer," Spike said, slowly unfolding his arms and straightening up to challenge Buffy. "But we're stuck playing follow the leader and you're not going anywhere at all. So yeah, sick of this crap is accurate."

Willow laid a hand on Spike's arm, he shot her a chance and his mouth snapped shut as he exhaled hard through his nose and took a step back from Buffy, folding his arms again.

"That's about to change," Buffy's glare flicked from Spike and over the others in the group. "We couldn't wage war 'cause of the people in this town. So here's the thing: we get them out. If they won't listen to us and they won't get out, they die. Make sure they know that."

"We're declaring war?" Anya asked. "But you said we're not strong enough!"

"We're as strong as we're ever gonna be! But we do need weapons. Willow, Tara, think you could get a message to the military. I want a goddamn arsenal."

"Sure, we can do that," Willow glanced at Tara who nodded in agreement.

"Good," Buffy said, her voice hard edged. "We get the people out and as soon as we get weapons… 'Til then, housecalls all round, convince them that they need to get gone as soon as possible. Make sure they _know_ we'll help them get out."

"Then?" Doyle asked.

Buffy had started to mount the stairs and at this question, she turned to look at them.

"We fight," she stated, and carried on up the stairs.

"Er…" Andrew ventured. "I'm new, so I don't get it. Why didn't you do this before?"

"We weren't strong enough before. And we couldn't risk civilians getting caught up in a war," Tara told him softly.

"What's changed?" Andrew asked.

Mouths opened to answer, snapped shut and turned to the one person who might actually have a clue.

"Wes, mate," Spike started, voice low, verging on nervous. "What happened out there?"

"She's not dead," Wes told them.

"Who?" Anya asked, though everyone else was making the connection.

Wes fixed her with a vaguely terrified blue gaze. He gulped hard before answering.

"Faith."

* * *

Willow could still feel his touch on her arms like an oil slick. He had caught her as her knees buckled in shock and pulled her close as Doyle offered her a sip of his brandy. The others watched, struggling with their own shock so they didn't notice she and Spike clung together a little too long. That had been the night before, as Wes announced Faith was back and she could _still_ feel him.

She could feel his gaze heavy on her as he closed the door of the room on the two witches.

The soft caution of Tara's hand taking hers pulled her back into the moment.

"Message to the military," Tara smiled. "We could access the computers, I guess. Do you think we could?"

"I think some kind of hypnosis on the general in charge would be best," Willow mused. "They see weaponry to be delivered to Sunnydale, they'll get suspicious, might even interfere. A brief hypnosis so they think it's something they do all the time, would you be all right with that?"

Tara shifted uncomfortably.

"We'd remove it as soon as we got the weapons?"

"Oh, yeah. Of course."

"Then I think that's ok. It's for the greater good, right?"

"Absolutely."

Tara smiled that hesitant smile and Willow tightened her hold around her hand. Their eyes drifted close and they breathed deeply and allowed their minds to become one, forcing away all other thoughts.

Except, Willow was having a bit of trouble with that part and as their minds became one power, she felt everything flowing into Tara and she was powerless to stop it.

_Cool lips assaulted her. A musky scent of leather, smoke, cheap whisky and something wild swirled about her. Night, hard and heavy as the arm about her waist. Breeze, soft as the fingers combing through her hair. Tongue, insistent, but cautious._

_Rasping, echoing screams of a distant name and love. Flashes of a man with green eyes and dark hair, a gentle smile. Chipped nail polish and fingertips red from plucking guitar strings with his fingers when his final plectrum was lost. A guy that was soft and warm, on her level, not towering over her, all sharp edges and searching blue eyes._

_Guilt._

_Shivers down her spine._

_Desperate need to be close to someone._

_Anyone._

_Even Spike._

Tara's eyes flew open as she gasped, pulling away from Willow and struggling to her feet. She stared down at her friend who sat horrified on the floor.

"Tara…" she started.

"_Spike_?" Tara asked in complete disbelief.

And Willow had liked it. Liked _him_. Not her. She liked Spike like that. Oh Goddess.

She turned and fled from the room, leaving Willow curled on the ground, feeling inexplicably guilty.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Six**

Doyle and Spike had been discussing the up-and-coming war at the top of the stairs. Not that they really had any kind of in depth discussion, they kind of skirted around the edges. But the effort was made, which they supposed counted.

Then Tara ran along, her eyes alighting on Spike long enough to make him realise what had happened. He figured _bollocks_ neatly summed up the situation.

Everyone but Willow, Tara, Spike, Doyle and Buffy had gone out to see the remaining Sunnydale residents. Willow and Tara stayed to do the spell, Spike and Doyle stayed to keep and eye on them and the mansion. Buffy was sleeping, Dawn said to leave her be.

Doyle jumped up; he had been protective of the shy witch ever since he had met her on the way to Sunnydale with Anya.

"You go check on her, mate," Spike said, gesturing after Tara. "I'll see if Red's all right."

Doyle didn't answer, having bolted down the hall after Tara. Well, this was all they needed and for the hundredth time, Spike questioned the sanity of his decision to kiss Willow. He thrust that to one side, he was evil. That was just the kind of thing he did.

He sighed. Maybe with other women, but not with Willow. The girl had nursed him through his time spent in the wheelchair and somehow he had actually started to like her. God knows why. He opened the door to the room Willow and Tara worked in.

She was curled against the wall, white faced and shocked. She looked up at him, blinked and returned her gaze to her knees. He sat down beside her, one leg stretched before him, the other pulled up. He fixed his gaze on the opposite wall.

"What happened b'tween you and Tara then?" he asked, still not looking at her.

"She knows," Willow said flatly.

"Knows?" he shot her a glance, raising an eyebrow.

"About what happened between you and me."

Spike didn't answer, having been all too aware of how close Willow and Tara were. He really didn't fancy getting between two witches; he did have some feelings of self-preservation. And it really wasn't like he was in love with Red or anything. He fancied her, but then, who wouldn't? She was gorgeous and she was a sweetheart.

But there was something to be said for backing out gracefully, however much you didn't want to. See, Spike knew all about pain. Dru had left him twice. And he was quite aware that he was a bit of a sap when it came to women, these days it was mostly Dawn and Willow that got to him. So he supposed getting close to someone when there was a war coming was probably top of his list of stupid things to do and he had done some bloody stupid times in his time.

Coming back to Sunnydale was way up there.

Coming to Sunnydale in the first place was top.

So this weird thing he had with Red was going to end here and now. It was just one kiss. No big.

"It wasn't anything earth shattering," Spike shrugged after a moment's silence.

"What?" she asked, shooting him a glance that was horror-struck.

"You and me," Spike said, staring at the opposite wall, unable to meet those green eyes. "We're not exactly love young's dream, are we? Don't know why she had to get so upset."

"I don't believe you!" she screamed. "You bastard!"

"What?" he asked, staring at her as she stood up and started to leave.

"You - you -" she stuttered in fury. "I hate you!"

She left then and he wondered why her hating him still hurt so much.

* * *

Doyle was running his hand over her shoulder, silently handing her tissues as she cried. He knew what this was all about. The one thing that could upset Tara this much was Willow. Though he doubted Willow had upset her intentionally.

"It's all right, darlin'," he soothed. "What happened, eh? What's got you so upset?"

Tara struggled upright, leaning against the wall and drawing her knees up to her chest. Doyle shifted, turning so that he could face her properly.

"Willow and Spike," she said.

"What?" Doyle almost laughed, but the brokenhearted expression on Tara's face stopped him. "God, you're serious."

"Yeah," she sniffed.

"But - but, this is Spike!" Doyle protested. "He wouldn't… I thought he still loved that crazy Dru woman. And Willow! What does she see in him?"

But Doyle already knew the answer. He had noticed that they were close. They shared jokes, sarcastic comments, and just lately, lingering looks and blushes - on Willow's part at least.

"I don't know," Tara shrugged. "But she really likes him."

"No, I don't."

Doyle looked toward the door where Willow stood. She crossed her arms, pulling the baggy purple sweater she wore closer, making her look absurdly thin. But they all did. She sniffed and approached the bed; Doyle stood, backing away.

"I'll let you two…" he tailed off as he levelled up with Willow. "Make it all right," he hissed in her ear and she turned watery green eyes on him and nodded.

He left quickly and strode down the hall to ask Spike what the hell was going on.

"Tara, I…" Willow hesitated by the side of the bed before sitting down. "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to see that."

"It's ok," Tara replied.

"No, it's not ok," Willow took Tara's hand, seeming not to her Tara's breath hitch as she did so. "You're upset. I'm sorry, you shouldn't have seen it."

"It's not that…"

"Then what is it? You're my friend, Tara, I don't want anything to change that."

Tara looked up from where she had been staring at their hands and opened her mouth. Willow smiled at her, one of a dozen tiny smiles. Tara was willing to bet Spike didn't know Willow smiles as well as she did. She heard what she wanted to say run through her head and she wondered if Willow could hear it.

_I love you, Willow. I love you so much and I tried not to, really I did. I was happy to be your friend. But I can't bear this. I can't bear that you'd choose Spike over me. And I know that's dumb because you don't even know how much I love you. But it hurts; Willow, and only you can make it stop._

"I know," Tara said instead, smiling warmly, squeezing Willow's hands. "It was just a shock, is all. I'm all right. I hope you're happy with him."

"I won't be," Willow lowered her head and for the first time, Tara registered the sadness, the anger.

"What is it?" she asked quietly, lifting Willow's chin up and feeling her heart jolt as she saw tears streaming down Willow's face. "Sweetie…?"

"He said it didn't matter," Willow burst out, her voice raspy through the tears. "He said it was just a kiss. No big. It wasn't earth shattering. He doesn't get it. He was the only one since Oz that I even thought about, let alone kissed! He was the only one and now he's saying that it doesn't matter. You're the only one that understands."

Tara took hold of Willow's shoulders and pulled her close, letting Willow cry over her shoulder.

Willow didn't notice Tara's silent tears and Tara decided that she would have to have words with the damned vampire later.

For now though - she dropped a kiss on to Willow's hair - her Willow needed her.

* * *

Buffy had fallen into an exhausted sleep the moment she slumped onto her bed after her speech. She hadn't slept in so long, not properly.

"You aren't taking care of yourself."

She turned, the surroundings raced past as she found herself standing in one of Sunnydale's many graveyards. The night was clear, the air crisp but not cold. It was a beautiful night. The marble angels shone ghostly white in the moonlight and the air smelt like pine, fresh and soothing.

And Angel was leaning against a tombstone, smiling at her.

"You're not real," she stated.

He approached and stopped a few paces in front of her. She folded her arms, looking up at him. His eyes twinkled at her, just like always. She could smell the leather of his jacket, feel the faint puffs of air as he breathed needlessly. God, she remembered the strength of those arms.

"No," he answered. "Not real in the way I used to be. But I am here. I'm always here."

She turned her head away. She didn't want to hear this. But cool fingers slipped under her chin, drawing it back to him.

"This isn't real," she said, looking around at the cemetery. There was a flash and for a second, she saw the cemetery as it was now, but then it reverted to the peaceful place it used to be. "It's not like this anymore."

"I know," he whispered.

"The vampires," she went on. "They ruined it. The grass isn't cut, the flowers are dead. The headstones are broken and there's graffiti on the tombs and crypts. It's not like this."

"It used to be," he reminded her. "Remember?"

"I do. You used to be here. But you're not," she told him. "You're not here now. You can't be. You're dead. I saw you turn to dust. I tasted it in my mouth."

"You saw my body turn to dust," he whispered. "The rest of me is always here. I can't just leave you, y'know. Not when you've got this big battle."

She pulled away from him, turning and walking away. But he followed her, the stubborn asshole, and grabbed her hand, pulling her to a halt.

"I don't want this," she said, looking back at him. "I don't want to see you."

"Why not?" she closed her eyes against that flash of hurt on his face. She couldn't bear it.

"Because it hurts," she whispered. "This is all just a dream," she pulled her hand out of his. "I've only just got to the point where I can get through the day without thinking every minute about losing you. I don't want to wake up after having you touch me. It'll be like losing you all over again."

He smiled. The kind of smile that made her heart melt and break, her eyes blur with tears. Gently, oh, God, so gently, he took her shoulders and pulled her close. She let him. It had been two years since he held her and she still hadn't forgotten the way she felt safe, warm, despite his cool temperature. She remembered the way his arms fitted around her and the way his lips tickled her hair as he spoke.

"You'll never lose me," he whispered. "I'll always be here. I'd never leave you."

"You were going to," she reminded him. "You said you were going to leave."

"I know. But do you honestly think that I could stay away forever? I couldn't, not from you."

He kissed her head and a tear ran down her cheek as she sighed. She shouldn't do this; it would hurt too much when he wasn't there again when she woke up.

"Why are you here?" she asked, tilting her head back to look at him.

He wiped her tear away.

"I came to tell you something. Faith's back, Buffy."

"I know."

"But do you understand?" he frowned, searching for words to explain. "This doesn't just mean that now you have to fight. It means more."

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean, you have to make a choice. Faith is a Slayer, Buffy. She's still a Slayer, no matter what she's using that power for. Part of her is still good."

"How can you say that?" she asked, pulling away from him. "Remember what she did to you? To me?"

"I remember. I haven't forgotten. But I also have forgotten that underneath it all, she's still just a girl. She's looking for something."

"Yeah," Buffy nodded. "And she found it with the Mayor. He'll give her what she wanted. Power, control, that's all she's ever wanted."

"Maybe," Angel shrugged. "But he also accepted her. Took her just as she is. Be careful, Buffy. Faith has always needed someone, somewhere to fit in, some place to belong. Human weakness remember?"

She frowned at him, took a step forward, back into his embrace.

"I don't understand," she said. "That's what Faith said when I was unconscious before Graduation. What do you mean?"

"I can't say anymore," he said, glancing furtively over his shoulder. The world around them lurched sickeningly into the world as she knew it now.

"Angel, what…?"

"I'm not supposed to be here," he explained. "But I had to tell you. I had to make sure you knew, so that you would be ok."

"But I don't get it! Angel, please! I don't understand."

"I have to go," he said. "You will understand, Buffy. But I have to go."

He started to turn away from her when she grabbed hold of him, spinning him back into her arms. She pulled him down into a kiss. Just the way she remembered it. Soft, searching lips, arms tight around her waist. His hair was still soft but prickly beneath her fingers and she sighed into the kiss.

He pulled away and she looked around as they world darkened, shifting and alternating between the peace of the cemetery two years ago and the cemetery as it now was.

"Angel," she pleaded, gripping his hand. "Don't go. Please. You haven't been here long enough. Stay, just a little while longer. Please, just for a while. Don't go, not yet."

"I have to," there were tears in his eyes and he pulled her close, one last kiss before he let her go.

He smiled at her.

"Angel," she cried out. "I love you!"

"I love you too," he answered, his voice echoing as the tombs and crypts shook and crumbled. "Forever."

He took one more step away from her and she watched, frozen in place as he was swallowed by the darkness.

She awoke with a gasp, tearful and empty, the morning sunlight streaming into her room.

_"Be careful, Buffy. Faith has always needed someone, somewhere to fit in, some place to belong. Human weakness remember?"_


	7. Chapter 7

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Seven**

"You know, Anya," Wes said as they left the final house and walked slowly to the end of the street where they were going to meet Dawn and Andrew. "Your technique could use a little work."

"Technique?" she looked at him. "What technique? Sexual technique?"

"Anya," he groaned. "I meant your news breaking technique, I don't think that 'Hello, there's going to be a war, leave town or die,' was the best way of getting them out. And by the way, I didn't request a visual."

"Don't act like you don't like it," she huffed. "You haven't had sex in two years."

"How do you know that?" he retorted.

"Wesley," she said patiently. "There are five woman in that mansion. Me, Willow, Buffy, Dawn and Tara. I know you haven't jumped me and Tara's gay. Buffy isn't going to be jumping _anyone_ anytime soon and Dawn's underage. Buffy would kick your ass if you slept with her. So unless you've done it with Willow, I'm guessing you haven't at all. So, have you done it with Willow?"

"I most certainly have not!" he protested, blushing furiously. "Anyway, she's not my type."

"Hell, after two years, I'm surprised you even have a type," Anya shrugged, sitting on the bench at the end of the street to wait for Dawn and Andrew.

"Yes, well, the same to you," he answered, sitting down beside her.

"A year and a half."

"Excuse me?"

"I've not had sex in a year and a half," she pouted. "There was a guy in LA. Used to be a demon, but like me, someone interfered and now he's human. Interlocking bodies, so he said. I think Xander would have been better at it. I was going to find out when I got back."

She fell into silence and Wes regarded her affectionately for a moment.

"Y'know," he said after a while. "I was under the impression you no longer pined for Xander Harris."

"Sometimes," she shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder if he'd been alive now what might have happened when I got back."

"Yes. But I meant that I thought you had transferred your affections elsewhere."

Anya glanced at him, lowered her eyes and looked in the opposite direction.

"How long do you think Andrew and Dawn are gonna be?" she asked.

"Anya," Wes warned. "You're avoiding the subject."

"I don't like Spike like that!" she snapped, folding her arms.

"I wasn't talking about Spike."

"Or Andrew."

"Again, I wasn't talking about him."

"Or you!"

"Then you're obviously mad," he smiled. "But in all seriousness, I was actually talking about Doyle."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied breezily.

"Oh yes you do," he answered, "I'm talking 'Oh, Doyle! Take the painkillers for the vision headache!' and, 'Doyle, you drink to much, it's not good for you.' Am I making my point?"

"Was that weird high voice supposed to be me?" she asked, accusation heavy in her voice.

"Well, yes," he admitted sheepishly.

"That was crap."

"I know. But did I make my point?"

"You're delusional. I don't even like Doyle that much."

"Whatever you say."

"I don't!"

"Am I saying anything?"

"Shut up!"

They bickered the entire way back to the hotel. Dawn informed Andrew that they did that all the time. It was Dawn's secret opinion that Anya and Wes bickered to show affection, Anya did it with just about everyone, though Wes seemed to enjoy more than anyone else.

The door swung open to let them in and the four of them squinted in the sudden darkness. They could make out everyone crowded by the door and Dawn instantly knew something was up. Willow was glowering at Spike, Tara's face was blotchy from tears, Doyle was nursing his knuckles and Spike was sporting a fading bruised jaw. Buffy was pacing and stopped immediately when the door closed behind Anya, Wesley, Dawn and Andrew.

"How'd it go?" she asked.

"Fine," Dawn answered. "Took some persuading, but the two families we saw are both going. We collect them from their houses at midnight tomorrow."

"Same here," Wes nodded. "Anya used her infamously subtle technique and the three families we saw are queuing up to leave," Anya jabbed his arm and glared at him, he smirked in return, stopping short of sticking his tongue out at her. "Er… This is probably a stupid question, but what happened here?"

"Nothing," Spike told him petulantly.

Dawn raised her eyebrows, but remained silent, she would ask Spike later. Anya glanced at Doyle who shrugged and Wes eyed Willow thoughtfully. Andrew cast his eyes over the group and shook his head in confusion.

"I had a dream," Buffy announced.

"A dream?" Wes asked, his Watcher rising to the surface.

"A Slayer one?" Anya asked.

"Yeah," Buffy looked a little shaken and Dawn slipped her arm around her sister's waist.

"Come on, tell us in here," she said in a low voice.

Dawn pulled Buffy into the living area and pushed her onto the lone couch. Buffy noticed the dynamics of the group had shifted. She would usually sit with Wes on one side and Dawn on the other, curled against Tara. Willow and Spike normally sat opposite them, with Doyle beside Spike to share a packet of cigarettes. Anya would sit by Doyle, gripping his arm hard enough to make him curse when there was bad news.

Today, Willow studiously avoided Spike and sat with Tara. Doyle sat on Tara's other side, Anya frowned at them before taking her usual seat beside Doyle. Wes had sat down beside Buffy and Dawn was about to do the same, but she saw Andrew hesitate before sitting by Spike who stood alone, leaning against the fireplace. Knowing Spike's tendency to let rip during these meetings, Dawn abandoned her space beside Buffy and sat cross legged beside Andrew, shooting Spike a warning look.

"You had a dream then, Buffy?" Doyle asked after a moment's silence.

"Uh, yeah," Buffy was frowning around at the new arrangement, Dawn decided that Buffy had as much idea what was going on as Dawn did.

"Care to fill us in, Slayer?" Spike asked. "Or is this twenty bleedin' questions?"

Dawn whacked Spike hard on the shin and he glared down at her, but she had grown used to his posturing and glared right back.

"It was…" she took a deep breath and everyone leaned in, intrigued by what had gotton Buffy so upset. Anya's hand wound around Doyle's upper arm and he covered it with his own hand, ready to pull it away should she start to cut off his circulation. Buffy looked up. "It was Angel."

There was a sharp intake of breath and Willow moved along the couch to touch Buffy's arm.

"Are you ok?" she asked.

"Fine," Buffy attempted a smile. "It was just a dream, Will."

Just a dream she wished were real. Just a dream that had her in tears when she woke up. Just a dream that reminded her _again_ that she had lost him. She didn't care that he said he had never left her, never would. She couldn't feel him. If she could just _feel_ him maybe this whole thing would be easier.

But it wasn't.

"What did… What did he tell you?" Wes asked carefully.

"Something about Faith," she said, silently replaying the other things he said even as she spoke. "He said that her being back means more than just the fact we have to fight."

"More?" Tara asked. "What does that mean?"

"She's still a Slayer," Buffy answered.

"Oh," Wes said.

"'Oh'?" Anya echoed. "What does that mean?"

"The Slayer's power is used for good," he replied.

"You saying that this brave new world of the Mayor's is a good thing?" Spike asked. "Get to the point, Watcher."

"I mean that whatever Faith has done, her power is still essentially supposed to be used for good," Wes replied snappishly. "And she knows that. And I don't mean she thinks it, it will be inside her, that knowledge. It's built in with the power."

"Maybe it's lost its voice," Anya offered. "'Cause she sure ain't listening to it."

"She's looking for something," Buffy cut in. "And I don't mean a world ending object. Angel said she's looking for her place. Human weakness, he said."

"What's that mean?" Andrew asked.

"It's what Faith told me when I was unconscious," she mused. "We thought Faith was the Mayor's human weakness, but he didn't fall for it."

"That doesn't mean she isn't," Willow pointed out. "It just means he's smarter than we thought. So who did Angel mean when he said human weakness? The Mayor's?"

"I don't think so," Buffy answered slowly. "I think he meant her."

"But why would that be important?" Anya asked.

"Maybe..." Doyle started. "Maybe Faith's the way."

"What?" Willow asked. "Faith's the way?"

"To ending this. Maybe we need her?" his voice raised slightly in question, he looked toward Buffy for confirmation.

"Need her?" Dawn cried. "We need to stop her is what we need!"

"Just a suggestion, kid," he said, holding up his hands in defence.

"Um, hi?" Andrew lifted his hand hesitantly. "Can I say something?" they looked at him, silently letting him know he could. "Maybe we need to use her human weakness to stop her?"

"I like that idea better," Dawn said, pointing at Andrew who grinned.

"I have to admit that I do too," Wes admitted.

There were nods and murmurs of agreement. Buffy stood up.

"Well, I guess we'll have to wait and see. Will, Tara, did you do the spell?"

"Yep," Willow nodded.

"The general's under hypnosis and the weaponry will be here with the food drop tomorrow," Tara told her.

"Good, that means we're ok for getting everyone out."

"Now what?" Dawn asked.

"Now?" Buffy looked puzzled. "Now there's not a lot to do. You might as well make the most of it before this thing gets rolling. Thanks, guys."

She left and the others started to settle in for conversations or get up to go do something. Spike stalked off out of the room and Dawn tailed him, determined to get answers. Willow ignored him and started a conversation with Tara that Andrew joined in. Anya pulled out a nail file with slightly shaking fingers and Wes turned to Doyle.

"What happened there?" he asked, pointing to Doyle's red knuckles.

"I punched Spike," he answered casually.

"Oh," Wes nodded, then frowned as he realised what Doyle said. "Did I miss something?"

* * *

Buffy was going to get some of her weapons out. New weaponry would be great, but she was kinda attached to Mr Pointy, her crossbow and a particular sword. From the first floor landing, she saw Spike slam the door of the living area open and stalk into the kitchen, followed by Dawn. And she heard the voices of her friends as they settled in to enjoy what little normal time they had left.

_"I can't just leave you, y'know. Not when you've got this big battle."_

She gulped hard, ignoring the echoing voice of a memory. Once she had checked on the war worthy-ness of her favourite weapons, she'd start a training session. Until then, she wanted her friends to be people, not an army.

_"You'll never lose me. I'll always be here. I'd never leave you."_

_"You were going to. You said you were going to leave."_

_"I know. But do you honestly think that I could stay away forever? I couldn't, not from you."_

She stopped, leaning against the wall, staring around the hall. Why him? Why did he have to bring her a message? All she could remember was him, what if she forgot something important about Faith because all she could think of was him?

_"Angel. Don't go. Please. You haven't been here long. Stay, just a little while longer. Please, just for a while. Don't go, not yet."_

_"I have to."_

_"Angel, I love you!"_

_"I love you too. Forever."_

She touched her lips, closing her eyes. If she thought hard enough, she could still feel his lips, taste him, feel his hair and arms. If she could have, she would have willingly stayed in that dream forever, if it meant being with him.

She forced her eyes open. She mustn't dwell on it. She couldn't sink into that depression again, not now that she had a war to fight. She had people to protect and she was going to do it right this time. No one was going to die on her watch and if that meant forcing Angel from her mind until this war was over, then so be it.

She took a deep breath and focused on what training she should run her friends through that evening. She opened the door of the room she shared with Dawn and froze.

There was a figure at the window, silhouetted in the setting sun. The figure turned slowly as Buffy reached out for the sword beside her bed, squinting to see if she knew this person. It wasn't the first time the Mayor had sent some demon to take out the Slayer whenever she annoyed him, she would have thought he would have stopped doing that now, seeing as she killed them every time.

The figure, still silhouetted, put their hand on their hip and tossed sickeningly familiar thick hair.

"Hey, B. D'ya miss me?"


	8. Chapter 8

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Eight**

"What happened?" Dawn asked, grabbing a blood bag from the refrigerator and pouring it into a mug.

"Dunno what you're talking about," Spike mumbled, eyeing the empty cigarette packet morosely.

"Yes you do," she retorted, putting the mug in the death trap of a microwave. "What's going on with you guys? We go out and everything's fine, we come back and everyone's glaring. What happened?"

"Nothing," he answered.

He looked up when a chair screeched across the floor and Dawn sat down, chin in hand, fixing him with a determined look.

"Tell me, Spike," she said softly.

"I kissed her," he admitted, avoiding her gaze. "Willow, I mean. I kissed Red."

Dawn blinked. She stood slowly to take the blood out of the microwave; she set it before him and sat down again.

"Oh," she said. "And how does this affect Tara and Doyle."

"When Tara and Willow tried to do that spell, Tara saw it. She got upset and Doyle went to check on her. The Irish bastard hit me," he rubbed his jaw, but the bruise had faded. "Huh. And I thought he was my friend."

"He is, but he cares about Tara," Dawn shrugged. "He was probably just angry. What about Willow? What are you two going to do?"

"Nothing," he replied. "Told her it didn't mean anything," Dawn straightened up suddenly, staring at him. He looked up from the mug of blood and frowned at her. "What?" he asked.

"You don't get it," Dawn breathed. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" he snapped in irritation.

God, but he was sick of everyone interfering. First, it was Doyle, walking into the room and clocking him without a word or reason. Then it was the odd looks Tara was throwing him. He didn't need Little Bit having a go at him. He had already alienated most of the people who were actually friendly towards him; he didn't need to do it again.

"Willow hasn't ever looked at anyone since Oz," she told him. "She loved him so much. Buffy and Wesley had to practically hold her down the night he died. She was that close to tearing the Mayor apart. She didn't care if she got killed. It wasn't until you came along that she focused on something apart from this dumb war. Willow is my family," her voice hardened and she pointed a trembling finger at him. "Everyone in this mansion means something to me, even you. You guys are all I've got. How dare you do this to her."

Spike didn't let her harsh tone affect him, instead he leaned back in his chair, smirked and ran his eyes lazily over her.

"Well, look who's all grown up all of a sudden," he said in a low voice.

"Don't," she hissed, standing up and glaring at him. "Don't do this, Spike. Don't be like this because you can't handle your feelings."

He didn't move for a moment, he reached across the table and ran a finger along the handle of the mug.

Then he leapt out of his chair with superhuman speed, looping his finger into the handle of the mug and hurling it against the wall. Dawn dodged the arc of red as the mug shattered against the wall with a frightened yelp. She didn't see Spike reach out and grab her. She turned fearful eyes to him, even as she reminded herself about the chip and noted that his grip on her shoulders was firm, but not hard. She could pull away if she wanted to.

"I'm _bad_," he told her. "The only reason I'm here is because of this chip and because that smarmy git's minions put me back in a wheelchair. I don't give a toss about any of you. So don't _you_ dare tell me how I feel, because you, Niblet, don't know the real me," he shook her slightly. "Get it?"

She dragged herself out of his hands and pushed him hard away from her.

"Never," she stated. "Never touch me again," she stalked away from him, tall and tough, but he saw the shake in her hands. She clenched them into tight fists and paused by the door. "I know you're the one that broke it off, but she's the lucky one."

She didn't look back again as she left the kitchen.

* * *

Buffy didn't answer as Faith walked towards her. Just the same as always, that swagger, smirk, the whole package. Buffy remembered how she envied Faith, the way Faith didn't give a damn about anything.

_"Want. Take. Have."_

She remembered how easy that had been. But out of the two of them, who was the evil one?

_Yeah? But who's the one stuck in a grimy mansion surviving on military rations while the other lives it up at the Mayor's?_ her mind sneered at her and Faith frowned.

"You know, B," she commented. "You never used to be so quiet," she continued her slow prowl toward Buffy. "Cat got your tongue?"

"What are you doing here?" Buffy asked in a low voice, making no attempt to push Faith away, though she was only inches from her face. She wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"Wanted to thank you," Faith shrugged. "Two years out of the game. Y'know, I was after a vacation. Though I woulda wanted to be part of the fight. Heard it was fun. Load of you died, right?"

Buffy swung out, her sudden move catching Faith off guard. The force of punch lifted Faith off her feet and sent her sprawling. Faith touched her mouth with a chuckle.

"Ouch," she commented. "But no blood. Not like last time, eh?"

She stayed where she was on the floor and lifted her tank top up, revealing a scar. Buffy gulped hard and stared at it.

_"You did it, B. You killed me."_

"Yeah, that's a good one, isn't it?" Faith said, noting Buffy's eyes lingering over the scar. Faith ran a finger over it. "One to tell my grandkids about. See, kids," she jumped up then, starting to pace, waving her hands dramatically. "There was this bitch, right? Now, not only did she steal my wicked cool knife, but she stabbed me with it. But you know what? I got back at her."

"Oh yeah?" Buffy mocked. "How did you do that?"

"I was thinking kill all your friends, y'know? Strip every little thing away until all that's left is you," she stopped her pacing then and stared Buffy in the eye. "And me."

Buffy chuckled, keeping her eyes on Faith; she crossed the room to her bedside cabinet. It was old and shook a little as she opened the drawer and Faith snorted in disdain. The laughter stopped abruptly though as Buffy pulled out the knife and held it up. The curving double blades glinted in the late afternoon sunshine and Faith's smirk froze on her face.

"That's mine," Faith hissed.

"Yeah?" Buffy asked. "I gave it to you once, remember? Stuck it in your gut," her face hardened as she ignored the sickness that rippled through her stomach as she remembered that night. "And I will do it again, Faith. Get the hell outta here and don't you ever come back. There'll be a fight, don't worry. But it'll be on my terms, not yours. Now get out."

"Give it back," Faith stated firmly, holding out her hand.

"No," Buffy answered, running her fingers over the blade.

"I mean it, Buffy. Give it the hell back."

Faith approached her menacingly, fists clenched. She slammed her fist into Buffy's jaw and Buffy stumbled back, but regained her footing as Faith came at her again. Faith made to kick her, but Buffy's foot met hers in mid air, crashing into her leg.

Buffy hadn't been in a coma for two years, so she had a little more strength behind her. The kick knocked Faith off balance and Buffy took advantage of this, slamming her other foot into Faith's stomach. But Faith grabbed her foot, twisting sharply and sending Buffy sprawling to the ground. She dived over Buffy and grabbed for the knife that had clattered to the floor as Buffy fell.

Buffy rolled over as Faith reached for the knife and wrapped her arms around Faith's waist, tugging her away from the knife and rolling them over. She pulled herself up so that she straddled Faith's hips. Buffy pinned her hands above her head and leaned in low to Faith.

"I warned you," she hissed. "I told you to leave. I've been in the game for two years, Faith. So I'm a little bit faster than you are, little bit stronger. My reflexes are a little bit better."

Gripping Faith's wrists with one hand, Buffy leaned forward further and grabbed the knife. Faith struggled beneath her, but Buffy had been right. Buffy was slightly stronger. Fear gripped Faith's stomach as she remembered the chill as the knife pierced her stomach, the way the cold had taken her breath away.

Buffy trailed the blade across Faith's throat slowly and Faith refused to let her breath hitch, so she met Buffy's eyes defiantly.

"I could kill you right now," Buffy told her, and through Faith's fear, she heard the tremble in Buffy's voice. "I could, y'know. And then you'd stop being a pain in my ass."

"Then do it, B," Faith urged. "Just do it right this time. I couldn't stand waking up in another two years again."

And Buffy seriously considered it. She could just quickly run the blade across Faith's throat, watch the life bleed out of her and that would be it.

No more Faith.

Buffy could fight the Mayor and all his nasties and not have to worry about the other Slayer. It would be that easy. Faith would do it if she were in Buffy's place. She wouldn't hesitate. She would do it with a smile on her face.

All it took was one motion and the war would be a lot easier. No humans to worry about except those on her own team.

_"I mean, you have to make a choice. Faith is a Slayer, Buffy. She's still a Slayer, no matter what she's using that power for. Part of her is still good."_

Angel's voice echoed through her mind. She had forgotten to tell the others that part. She had told them about the human weakness, about the Slayer part of Faith. But she had forgotten the choice part.

But she remembered now and she made her choice.

She stood up, letting go of Faith, keeping an eye on her as she moved away.

"Go," she told her.

"You letting me go, B?" Faith asked, sitting up and raising her eyebrows.

"Yes," Buffy said. "Unlike you, I'm not a killer."

Faith stood up then, warily; watching the knife Buffy clutched.

"It'll be me or you one day," Faith warned her.

"But that's not today," Buffy answered. "Go on, get out. You'll get your chance at me, but not today."

"Gotta wait 'til it's on your terms?" Faith asked sarcastically.

"You got it."

"You haven't changed a bit," Faith chuckled, backing away toward the window. "G'bye, Summers. Can't wait to see you again."

And she vaulted off the edge of the small balcony and Buffy listened to her land and run across the grass. She didn't move until she heard the sound of Faith's boots hit the street beyond the small stretch of grass behind the mansion.

When she heard that, the knife fell from her hands and she fell to the floor, shaking, forcing herself not to throw up. She held her shaking knees to her chest, dimly aware of the bang of the kitchen door and the sound of Dawn storming into another room.

She stared out of the window, Faith's mocking grin floating in front of her face. She couldn't do it. One day, she knew she would have to.

She knew that.

_But what if I can't?_


	9. Chapter 9

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Nine  
**

The Mayor neatly dodged the flying missile, smiling the whole time as Faith demolished the room in her blind rage. He didn't mind, though he had been rather fond of the couch that now lay in gutted shreds across the carpet. But, girls would be girls and Slayers would be Slayers. Faith had to vent her anger and frustration and better it be here than in front of the Mayor's army. It wouldn't look too good if the girl the Mayor had put in charge of them lost it so very badly. And the Mayor did like to keep a neat and tidy face on things.

He watched Faith spin around, leaping into a wild roundhouse kick that snapped a lamp in half. Thankfully, she stopped then. Her ragged breathing filled the room as she turned slowly, pushing her hair out of her face and dropping the knife she had gutted the couch with to the floor. She ran her eyes over the remains of said couch, the lamp and the three holes in the wall. Her gaze flickered to the Mayor, then down to her feet.

"Sorry, Boss," she mumbled.

"No problem," he answered. "I'll get Abigail to clean it up. I was looking for an excuse to change this wallpaper," he ran his fingers over one of the holes in the wall before turning back to her. "What happened?"

She shrugged, flopping into a chair she hadn't ripped to shreds. He did likewise, leaning forward and smiling encouragingly.

"I went to see Buffy," she said after a moment.

"Oh," the Mayor nodded. "You went to the mansion?"

"Yeah."

"Want to tell me about it?"

There was the fatherly tone Faith remembered, the slight cheeriness that never went away. She met his eyes and his smile made her grin for a second, but it faded as she went on.

"She kicked my ass," Faith mumbled.

"Impossible!" the Mayor protested. "Buffy Summers has nothing on my girl!"

"Thanks, but… She really did."

"Why'd you go there?"

"She put me in a coma for two years," Faith reminded him, then shrugged. "I dunno, I guess I just wanted to see what those two years have done to her."

"Given her a lot of worry lines," the Mayor said, nodding knowingly. "And without the make up, you can count every one."

"She had my knife," Faith said quietly, ignoring his attempt to brush this to one side. "The one you gave me."

"I know," the cheeriness vanished, simmering anger filling the place where it had been. "Tried to bait me with it on Graduation Day. I nearly fell for it. If I had, she would have blown up the school with me in it. Ten outta ten for ingenuity, zilch for the execution."

"We fought," Faith went on, feeling slightly proud that the Mayor hadn't fallen for Buffy's trick and warmed by the thought that he wanted to avenge her stabbing. "I nearly had her," Faith slammed her fist into her palm. "I nearly had her, Boss!"

"What underhanded trick did she pull to knock my girl off then, eh?"

"I dunno. I nearly had the knife, then she's straddling me. She could've cut my throat."

"But she didn't," the Mayor pointed out. "She didn't have the guts. She's not got your fire, Faith. That's why you're on my side and that's why they're going to lose again."

"But what if I screw up?" Faith asked. "I've been out of the game for two years, Boss! I'm not as strong as I used to be!"

"You're getting stronger everyday," there was something final in his tone. "Now, instead of going off to visit Miss Summers again, you can put my boys through their paces. Kill a couple of the weak ones if you want, cull the herd. Trust me, Faith, when Buffy starts her war, you'll be you're old self and you'll take her down. But unlike you, she won't get up again."

Faith smiled and allowed him to draw her up with him as he stood. He threw his arm around her shoulders.

"How about we go get ourselves a couple of glasses of milk while Abigail clears this place up? That'll build your strength up!"

Faith chuckled and shook her head in disbelief. An evil genius drinking milk, only in Sunnydale.

"Sure," she answered. "But y'know when you redecorate?" she gestured to the trashed room they were leaving behind. "Could the room not be pink this time?"

* * *

Buffy was as white as a sheet as she left the room she had heard Dawn go into. Wes was in the hall, looking for Dawn who he knew had gone to talk to Spike. He frowned at Buffy; she didn't seem to have noticed his presence.

"Buffy?" he asked, taking her hand to draw her to a halt.

"What?" she looked up at him and he felt panic start in the base of his stomach at the look on her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, determinedly keeping his voice level.

"Dawn's upset," she said. "Spike yelled at her."

"Is she all right now?"

"Yeah. She was just angry."

"That's all? You look pale, Buffy."

She attempted a smile, running a hand through her hair.

"I'm fine, just worried. Wondering if the military will being the weapons tomorrow, if we're ready, if this is the right thing to do."

"It's the only thing to do," he reminded her. "There's nothing else to do except go on like we have been for the past two years. Going on like that indefinately was never an option."

"Yeah. I know," Buffy shrugged. "Look, I'm just about to get the guys together for a training session. D'ya think you could talk to Spike? I don't have time to deal with a moody vampire right now."

"I'll go do that," he frowned at her again. "Are you sure that's all? You're just worried?"

"I'm _fine,_" she insisted. "There's nothing wrong. I don't know why I worry, you worry enough for all of us."

She gave him a gentle push and he shrugged; though still sure she was hiding something. He went off in the direction of the kitchen, glancing back to see a stony faced Dawn leave the room and follow Buffy to the main living area for training.

Wes peered into the rooms along the way. All equally dusty and all empty. He found Spike in the kitchen, staring into an empty packet of cigarettes, framed by an artistic splatter of blood on the dingy white wall.

"What happened here?" Wesley asked, staring at the mess.

Spike shrugged, not looking up. He sighed and crumpled the empty packet, tossing it in the direction of the bin.

"You upset Dawn," Wes stated, turning his attention back to Spike. "What on earth did you say to her?"

"Not a lot. Kid should stop sticking her nose where it doesn't belong."

"You mean she asked you about what was going on with you all when we got back?" Spike didn't answer and Wes took that as a yes. "Did you tell her that you kissed Willow?"

Spike looked up sharply, eyes wide. Wes shrugged at the silent question.

"Doyle told me he hit you and he told me why. I take it Dawn was worried about you. So, of course, you alienated her. That's about four now, isn't it? Willow, Doyle, Tara and now Dawn. Four people you've upset in the space of a day."

"Are you forgetting who I am?" Spike asked, straightening up. "I'm bloody evil!"

"You're an arrogant bastard, that's what you are," Wes snapped back. He didn't mind Spike, found the fellow good company often enough. But he detested Spike's posturing, the constant need to prove he was still the Big Evil, when he wasn't. He was as much a White Hat now as the rest of them, it was something he would have to get used to.

Wes had fallen for the threats a few times, had backed off Spike whenever he started up like this. But not anymore, Wes had given up that kind of thing. And he was most definitely not going to be scared by a neutered vampire surviving on military pig's blood rations.

"Bugger off, Watcher," Spike sighed. "I'm not in the mood for you and your high horse."

"It may have escaped your attention, Spike, but I'm no longer a Watcher. Why did you take whatever the hell is wrong with you out on Dawn?"

"Because she was there," Spike shrugged.

"That's not good enough. She's barely sixteen, Spike, or hadn't you noticed? She may act like a grown up, but she certainly isn't. She shouldn't be here, we all know that. So it really doesn't help that you use your scare tactics on her."

"She wasn't scared," Spike retorted.

"I daresay she wasn't," Wes said. "As are none of the rest of us of you. But the least you could do is show her some respect. And while you're at it, stop screwing up people's lives! It's not fair. There's a war coming in a couple of days and all you can do is upset Willow and Tara."

"Stop playing the big man, Wesley," Spike spat. "It doesn't suit you."

"I'm not playing at anything. I happen to care about these people. I don't want them hurt. Not by the Mayor and certainly not by someone they consider a friend. Because they do, you know. Doyle enjoyed your company, so did Dawn. Tara liked you and Willow was downright fond of you. I don't understand why you went out of your way to hurt them."

"I didn't," Spike replied. "I didn't want to hurt anyone. Which, coming from me, is downright pitiful, but there it is. All this just _happened_."

Wes joined the vampire by the table, leaned against it and folded his arms.

"And what are you going to do about it?" he asked.

"Make it right."

The soft voice startled the two men and they looked toward the door where Tara was standing, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Wesley," she said. "I think Anya's looking for a sparring partner."

Wes cast Spike a look, then nodded at Tara.

"I suppose I'll have to be that victim," he said.

"I guess," she answered, smiling at him.

"Are you all right?" he asked in undertone as he drew level with her.

"Fine," she nodded.

Wes raised his eyebrows, but left them to it, closing the kitchen door to give them some privacy.

Spike regarded Tara from a distance as she sat down at the table.

"Sit down, Spike," she said. "I think we should talk…"


	10. Chapter 10

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Ten**

Spike had gotton to know the group over the last year and a half. He got along with them. He rubbed along well enough with the Slayer, secretly adored the Slayer's little sister. And he had found good friends in Doyle and Anya. He enjoyed their company, liked the boozy lads talk with Doyle and Anya's frank attitude. He even liked his conversations with Wesley. Liked teasing the guy because it was just so _easy_.

And, well, it was common knowledge that Willow was his favourite.

And he understood them, knew how to deal with them. He could deal with Willow's screaming rage, could deal with Doyle's silent fury. He was even ok with Dawn's hard-edged Buffy-style comments and Wes's disapproval that weighed heavy as a ton of bricks.

But out of all of them, it was the quiet blonde witch that he really didn't get. He frowned at her, but the steadily impassive face didn't crack. She leaned back in the chair, absently smoothing the white gypsy blouse she wore, avoiding looking at him. She tightened the hair band that held up her gently curling blonde hair.

"Aren't you going to sit down?" she asked after a moment's silence, noting that he wouldn't start this conversation, so she would have to.

His frown still in place, he sank into the seat opposite her, leaned back and waited for her to speak.

"You probably know what I'm going to say."

"Something about Willow, I expect," he replied casually, though he eyed her warily, none too sure of her. Wondering whether she'd yell, threaten, or just kill him with a few words in Latin.

"Yes," her voice was soft, her eyes flickering briefly away from his, a slight blush colouring her cheeks. That was his glimpse of understanding, something stirred inside him telling him the real reason she wanted to talk about this, but he ignored it and pinned her with his gaze, waiting for her to continue. She met his eyes again as she went on. "You've hurt her."

"I know," he answered quietly. He should fight her, really. Like he fought Dawn and Wesley. He _should_ fight her. But something told him not to. He thought it might be because of the way she tackled this, so quiet and gentle that he couldn't bear to be surly or nasty.

"Why?"

It was a simple question and it stumped him so completely that his mouth gaped for a moment, trying to voice an answer that he didn't have.

"You'll have to be a little more specific, love," he said instead. "When do you mean? Don't get me wrong, I know I hurt her. But I'm not sure if that's when I kissed or… after."

"After," she filled in. "When you ended it. Why did you do that?"

"Because…" he tailed off. There were so many reasons. He couldn't quite remember them all. Something about Dru. Something about it having consequences, not wanting to get close before a war that could see her killed. But at that moment, he created a new reason. And that reason was Tara. But he didn't say that. Instead, he said. "Because it was stupid. A stupid thing to do. I care about her after the way she looked after me before. But in case you hadn't noticed, pet, there's a war coming."

There was something almost challenging in her eyes. A look that hardened her expression and pleasantly surprised him, there was more to this one than met the eye.

She could drop it now. Nod, say she understood and walk away. Maybe she would still have a chance with Willow.

But in the in all the time Tara had been living here in Sunnydale, she had seen a lot. She wasn't the same stuttering, painfully shy witch that had arrived. She had good friends here and it was mainly because of them that she had changed.

She had learnt to fight and with that, she had grown more confident. She was no longer Tara Maclay who had been bullied by her father and brother. She was probably the quietest of the group, but she no longer took things lying down.

She didn't want to do this, more than anything she wanted to close her eyes until it went away. But that wouldn't help anyone. She sobbed and cried and it hadn't made it stop hurting.

And she wanted to help Willow. More than anything in the world she wanted Willow to be happy. No, more than anything in the world, she wanted Willow to be happy with _her_. She looked up at Spike. That wasn't going to happen. She had to accept that. However much it hurt.

"So?" she asked. "What's the war got to do with you and Willow?"

"It's not wise to get close to someone when there's a war coming. A war, a battle, a fight, call it what you will, it all boils down to death. Distance is the wisdom of war, Tara."

"She won't die."

He raised an eyebrow at her tone. There was something in it that niggled at him again.

"You don't know that," he replied evenly.

"I do," she stated. "She's strong. And she's a fighter. She won't give up for anyone, especially not the Mayor."

"You've not heard her," he said.

"What?"

"I said you've not heard her. She talks about vengeance."

"We all talk about vengeance. And can you blame her? Because of this, because of the Mayor, the man she loved was killed."

"I'm aware of the story, love."

"But are you, Spike?"

"What?"

"Beyond you, Willow has never looked at anyone else. She certainly hasn't kissed anyone else. And there's plenty of choice. Wesley, Doyle, now Andrew."

"Not forgetting you."

She jumped, flinching at his words. Her mouth opened slightly and she blushed crimson.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she answered.

"Don't get all coy on me, pet," he said. "I've seen the way you look at her. The way you smile when she looks at you or takes your hand. And if you're honest, that's why you're talking to me now."

He suddenly saw everything so clearly and he was astonished that she was here, seeming to urge him to approach Willow again. He didn't know one single person who would do that. He didn't know anyone who would even _consider_ it. Maybe he could understand if he was the decent, honourable kind of guy. As it was, he was struggling with it.

"Is it so wrong to want happiness for the person you love?"

"No. But it's stupid. If I were you, I'd be taking advantage of my stupidity and fight for her. You'd be far better for her than I would."

"I know that, you know that. Maybe, if Willow has any idea how I feel, she knows that. But that doesn't change the fact that she wants _you_. I don't know why and I don't think she does. But I guess love is blind."

And Goddess, she wished it wasn't.

She wished that Willow would look at her and see her. Not just as a friend.

It had been Willow that helped her change. She wanted to be as strong as Willow and it was Willow's friendship and the magick they shared that opened up that inner strength.

Tara wished she could use that strength to face Willow, tell her how she felt. But though she could do anything - spar with Doyle, tease Anya, face Spike - the one thing she couldn't do was tell Willow the truth. And nothing was going to change that. Just like nothing would change the fact that it was Spike Willow wanted, however much she denied that fact.

"She's not in love with me," Spike pointed out after a moment.

"And you're not in love with her," she answered.

"No."

"But that doesn't change the fact that you have strong feelings for each other. You want her, she wants you," Tara sighed, lowering her gaze, her voice falling to a wistful whisper. "You could make her happy. And as much as I wish it were me, I have to let her go," Spike watched in amazement as a tear fell down her cheek. He stood for a second, before reaching over and giving her shoulder an awkward squeeze. She sniffed and went on, her voice stronger. "And as long as she's happy, I think I can live with it. She'll still be my friend and while that's…" she sniffed, but looked up, grimly determined. "That's not what I long for, it is enough."

He sighed, ran his fingers through his hair and dropped his eyes.

"I dunno, Tara…"

"Well, I do," her voice rose again. "Go and talk to her, Spike. We go to war the day after tomorrow and I know neither of you will forgive yourselves if something happens."

"You just said nothing will."

"What?" she was tired of this conversation. There was only so far she could go before she broke down and begged him not to take Willow away from her. "I'm not allowed to be economical with the truth? Why? Because you filled that quota?" he was surprised by her sudden sarcasm, but then she shrugged, wiped her eyes and carried on in a resigned tone. "The truth is, we all might die. I just refuse to believe she will. Call me an idiot or an optimist, but that's what I believe."

"Realist."

"What?"

"I wouldn't call you an idiot or an optimist. I think you're a realist. Will survived Graduation, two years of being trapped and hunted and losing the guy she loves. She might not look it, but she's tough. She's got stones. So I don't think you're being optimistic when you say she won't die. She's got what it takes."

"Yeah."

"She's also kinda scary," Spike added with a smile.

"I think you kinda deserve it," she returned the smile with a slight grimace at her words.

"Probably."

He stood up, hesitating before going to the door to leave and look for Willow.

"Tara?"

"Yeah?"

He hesitated. There had to be something to say. But what? What do you say to the woman who is giving up the person she loves? Giving up the person she loves to a guy like him? What do you say?

Somehow, Spike didn't think "Thanks," was enough. She faced him, eyes glittering with tears, lower lip trembling. He gulped hard.

"If she chose you, Tara," he said in a low voice. "If I go to her and she chooses you, I think it might hurt less. You're a decent person; you deserve her more than I do. I think it might just be an honour to lose her to you."

She turned to him. Her mouth quirked in a soft smile even though her eyes were unashamedly brimming with tears that spilled easily as she handed him the one thing she wanted in the entire world.

Willow.

"Same here," she whispered.

* * *

"I'm not sharing with him!"

"Deal with it, Andrew," Buffy snapped. "All the other rooms are falling to pieces. If you want to sleep in one of those and wake up dead, be my guest."

"I wouldn't wake up if I was dead," Andrew mumbled.

"Even better," she answered, turning away from him to rearrange Anya's hands around the sword she held.

Anya frowned at her put her hands back the way they were when Buffy shot another glance at a petulant Andrew.

"He could share with us," Dawn shrugged. "Or we could bring some beds to one of the downstairs rooms and I'd share with him."

"No, you will not," Wesley said, letting go of the brandy bottle he grappled over with Doyle to frown at her. "Strictly same sex sharing unless there's a couple who are above the age of consent. You know the rules."

"I wouldn't sleep with Andrew," Dawn protested. "No way! He's so not my type. He's a nerd for a start!"

Andrew punched her in the arm, but she punched back harder and he winced, grabbing his arm and doubling over.

"Drama Queen," Dawn muttered to him.

"You're not sleeping downstairs," Buffy cut in. "It's too dangerous. If anyone came in, you wouldn't hear them. The stairs, death trap that they are, are the only alarm system we have," not that it had worked so well with Faith, who had climbed in through a window. But she wasn't going to say that, no point scaring them. She set her face and put her hands on her hips. "So no sleeping down here."

"Where am I supposed to go then?" Andrew whined, straightening up. "He yelled and threw stuff at Dawn! She told me so! And he _likes_ Dawn!"

"I suppose he could come in with us," Wes offered reluctantly, shooting a glance at Doyle, who choked on his subtle sip of brandy.

"Are you insane, man?" he cried. "There's barely enough room as it is!"

"I'm small," Andrew said. "And I'll leave my stuff in Spike's room. I just don't want to be asleep in the same room as him, he could kill me."

"Spike has a chip," Wes reminded him. "And standards."

"Look," Buffy huffed. "Grab your stuff and move in with Wes and Doyle. But I don't know why you're bothering, we go to war tomorrow."

"All the more reason for a good night's sleep," Andrew shrugged.

* * *

Another empty can was pierced, was still for a moment, before toppling backwards off the banister, landing in the wooden hall with a tinny clatter. Willow carefully reloaded the crossbow and aimed quickly.

She didn't realise anyone was there, but something threw her off and the bolt went whizzing beyond the empty soda can and embedded in the wall. Another one to add to the collection, a testimony to the nights everyone spent practising with a crossbow and cans on the banister. It was the best place, Buffy said. The banister ran along the hall, preventing people falling over the edge into the hall. By lining the cans on the banister, everyone could see what you were doing and be careful, the steady plink of cans falling was also another give-away.

So far, the only thing to suffer was the state of the far wall.

Willow glanced to her side and saw Spike mounting the stairs, glancing back to the kitchen where his heightened hearing detected Tara's quiet sobs. It made his gut wrench and he moved slowly along the hall toward Willow. She shot another bolt and the next soda can wobbled and fell.

"Good shot," he said.

She shrugged, not answering and shot another can, but his steady gaze that she felt boring into her back threw her off and yet another bolt embedded itself in the wall.

"Go away," she said irritably.

"Can't," he answered.

He wasn't going to walk away from this. He had a brand new respect and admiration for Tara and he was not going to let her hurt for no reason. He would make Willow happy. Hopefully, in some way, that would make Tara happy too. Because he did want Tara to be happy, mainly because of what she had just done. He felt he owed her that much.

"Do you know that Andrew's moving out of your room because of what you did to Dawn?" she asked suddenly. "You scared him."

"Not my fault he's a nancy."

"No, of course not. Nothing's ever your fault, is it, Spike?"

"I'll talk to the kid if that makes you happy," he offered.

"Do what you want," she replied. "But then again, that's all you ever do," she turned to face him, resting the crossbow on a rickety table shoved into the hallway to hold various weaponry. She didn't approach him, but continued from where she stood. "You're like Faith, you know that? Want. Take. Have. That's her actual philosophy in case you're wondering, Buffy told me. Is that what it was with me, Spike? You wanted me, so you took me and that's it? You've done it, so now you'll move on?"

"No, that's not how it was at all!" he protested. "I mean, yeah. I wanted you, I kissed you. But it wasn't just because you were there and I could."

"Why was it then?"

"Because…" his shoulders were drawn up tightly and he dropped them suddenly, raising his hands and grasping at thin air. A gesture of defeat, Willow recognised, though she never dreamed she would see it in the middle of an argument. He sighed. "Because I liked you."

She frowned, reached up to fiddle nervously with her hair.

"And then what?" she asked, seeing he wasn't about to add anything else.

"Huh?"

"Why break it off?

"Dru. Oz. War coming, shouldn't get close," he shrugged. "The usual suspects."

"You're an idiot," she snapped, sitting down on the table.

"Guilty as charged," he answered, moving so he was leaning against the banister facing her. "But in my defence, Red, you already knew that."

"What is it you want exactly, Spike?" she sighed. "I don't want to play games."

"Neither do I," he replied. "I'm sick of them. So here's the thing: I'm sorry. Sorry for kissing you, if that upset you and sorry for being an insensitive sod when I ended it. Sorry for ending it," he tilted his head to one side, thinking. "On second thoughts, no. I'm not sorry for kissing you, just the rest."

"Oh," she said softly. "So, um, what do you want to do now?"

"I thought we could…maybe… go back to where we were before. Y'know, I was leaving the ball in your court and you promised to think about it?"

"Well…" she tailed off, then lifted her head to smile at him. "Seeing as you asked so nicely, I'll think about it."

He grinned and approached her cupping her face to draw her into a kiss. But she pressed a hand to his chest and pushed him back a little bit. He frowned at her. And she tried really hard to be angry with him for doing that when she had said she would _think_ about it. But she failed miserably. Maybe it was the gentle yet firm way he pressed against her.

"I said I'll think about it, Spike," she whispered and he felt her breath move over his lips. "We'll talk later, ok?"

"Right, uh, sure. I'll see you later then."

"Yeah."

She pushed away from the table, inadvertently pressing closer to him and rubbing against him as she moved away. She walked down the hall, shooting him one final glance as she descended the stairs.

He exhaled hard through his nose and turned to lean against the table.

He glanced down at his tightening trousers.

"Bloody hell."


	11. Chapter 11

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Eleven**

Willow slumped onto her bed. The sky was slowly darkening, the chalky blue deepening to royal blue velvet. She couldn't remember the last time she went to bed normally, at night. They usually caught forty winks whenever they could, an unvoiced fear threaded between them that if they were all asleep, there would be no one there to raise the alarm should anything happen.

So tonight, she made the most of it. She showered, washed her hair, drying it thoroughly with a towel, as hair dryers were an unnecessary luxury. She pulled on soft, warm pyjamas and slipped into bed, listening to the distant sounds of her friends talking and laughing. There was the occasional clang of steel as someone went on practising and an Irish curse pierced the air every now and again, usually directed at Anya. There was the muffled sound of padding feet on the wooden floor and doors groaning.

She stared at the ceiling unable to sleep.

Before Tara and Anya shared with her, this used to be her and Oz's room. They had pushed two single mattresses together and giggled as they fought over the sparse blankets.

The floor creaked when they made love. When he gently thrust inside her and the next morning, the others would cast them amused looks. There was a spring in the mattress that jabbed her in the back, so he would suckle her neck until she arched. He would slip his arm around her then and roll over, pulling her away from it.

The night he died, as Buffy coaxed her into bed, she pushed the mattress away. She refused to sleep on it and refused to sleep on the creaking floorboard. So Wesley went to find another mattress and she slept on that in the farthest corner of the room, curled into a ball, eyes squeezed so tightly shut that fireworks exploded in the blackness. She didn't sleep, but she remained like that until the new witch, Tara, knelt beside her and stroked her back, gently asking her if she wanted breakfast.

She had said yes, but she hadn't been as compliant as that before.

Oz had died to save her. They had all gone out, Oz; Dawn, Wesley and herself after Buffy called for back up when she found Tara, Doyle and Anya just outside the border.

She still remembered turning to see the wolfish gleam in his eyes as he bore down on the demon about to attack herself and Tara.

She remembered his elbow colliding with the demon's chin, knocking it off course. She remembered the gleam of the fading sunlight on his sword as he pulled it back. She remembered the determination on his face, the way he didn't see the demon reaching forward. As Oz's sword pierced the demon's flesh, the demon's hands closed around his head. He was already lost as the sword burst through the demon's back and the demon's hands moved and twisted. She remembered seeing the bone shift through the soft skin of his neck. The skin there tasted like cinnamon, she remembered thinking. She even remembered the sickeningly wet crunch, the way his head wobbled, his eyes bright and alive as he looked toward her.

She was frozen as his eyes dulled and he sank to his knees and crumbled in a heap as she wrenched her hands from Tara and screamed his name.

Wesley had pulled her away from Oz, lifting her slightly to drag her away from the Mayor's army, still held back by the magickal barrier she and Tara had invoked.

"Willow, he's gone," she vaguely remembered that Wes sounded choked. She hadn't moved then, just shook violently and at Oz, whose neck was twisted at an unnatural angle.

"Willow!"

Buffy's voice was high pitched, a sure sign of her desperation. "We've got to go. Come on!"

The tears came then and her voice was hoarse with misery and rage.

"Oz!" she screamed, shaking off Buffy. "We can't just leave him!"

Buffy and Wes exchanged a look and Buffy dived for Oz as Wes wrapped his arms around Willow's waist, lifted her off her feet and ran with Buffy and Dawn back to the mansion. She could remember how Buffy didn't look at the friend she carried in her arms, how Dawn was sobbing, clutched by the new witch, Tara. She remembered how pale Anya had been, how Doyle had slipped his arm through hers. She remembered how Wes's arms shook around her and when her gaze flickered up to him, his eyes shone with tears. He and Oz had been friends, as the only two males around, they were close.

Wes only let her go once they were in the relative safety of the mansion and they had regarded her, Buffy's fingers clenching in the fabric of Oz's shirt. Buffy hesitated and Willow made it easier for her.

"You should put him in the living room," she had said. "I just need to…"

She tailed off as she mounted the stairs, slowly entering their room. The first thing she saw was his guitar, propped under the window where he left it as they ran out to help Buffy. The tears had dried on the way back to the mansion as she slowly shut down. Her face had felt sticky and tight as her fingers wrapped around the neck of the instrument and pulled it toward her.

_"Well, the E-flat, it's... it's doable, but that diminished ninth, y'know, it's a man's chord. Now, you could lose a finger."_

Her fingers tightened until she felt the wood begin to weaken. She grabbed it with her other hand and holding it like a baseball bat, she slammed it into the wall, screaming and crying. Wes and Buffy burst into the room; Dawn could be heard yelling after them, asking what to do.

Buffy's hand closed around her wrist, forcing her to a halt. She dropped the broken neck to the floor, gave an ironic chuckle. Broken neck, like him. Oh God. She turned then, grabbing the sword Buffy insisted they have in their room and headed to the door.

She hated Buffy and Wes for stopping her. Wes helped hold her still, gripping her arms as Buffy cupped her face, whispering in her ear. She felt Buffy's tears and broke down once more, but there was no rage in her tears this time, she was full of the agonising acceptance that Oz had gone. She remembered sobbing in Buffy's arms as Wes wrapped his arms around her from behind, rocking her. She remembered Dawn entering the room, slipping under Buffy and Wesley's arms and burying her face in Willow's neck.

It was only after the original members, the first survivors, pulled apart that Willow whispered that she didn't want to sleep on that mattress.

The next morning, as dawn broke, the others went with Buffy to bury Oz with their other friends under the rose bush in the Summers garden.

The next month was a meaningless blur of visiting his grave, crying herself to sleep, waking screaming from a nightmare and reaching blindly for Tara as Anya left to make her a drink.

The only memory that wasn't blurry around the edges was of the fight she and Buffy engaged in to save Spike. The jolt in her stomach when she turned and realised who it was. The sickening pity as Wesley declared that his spine and legs were broken, as Doyle offered the writhing vampire some whiskey.

The memories came thick and fast after that.

Nights spent running a stake along the soles of his feet, searching for any feeling, as he grumbled at her. Days spent exchanging sarcasm as she handed him the few books they had. Afternoon's spent urging him to walk. Hours spent talking.

She rolled over, pulling the blanket over her as she came to a sudden, gut lurching realisation.

She didn't just want Spike.

She needed him.

* * *

"Hey."

Spike twisted his head to look at Dawn, before returning his attention to the crossbow he was trying to repair. A useless endeavour, as they were due to get far more crossbows the next day, but it was something to do as he couldn't sleep. He was too full of the up-coming war and the taste and scent of Willow to do anything else.

"Hello," he replied evenly.

"I heard you and Wes _had words_," she sat down opposite him and put her chin in her hand. "That's what he said, not me. Then I saw Tara go into the kitchen and she said you and Willow made up. So, did you?"

"Yeah," he answered, "we made up."

"Good," she nodded hard and stood up.

"Sorry," he said as she started to walk away.

She stopped, turned slowly, her eyebrows climbed as her eyes widened.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"I said sorry, for yelling at you and throwing the blood before," he stood up too, but didn't take any steps toward her. He frowned at her astonishment. "What's wrong?"

"I've never heard you apologise for anything," she said.

"Yeah, well I'm making a habit of it. I apologised to Willow, several times actually. And I apologised to Andrew."

"I don't think 'Don't worry, kid, I'm not gonna kill you in your sleep. You can still share with me,' constitutes an apology, Spike."

"Yeah, well, the effort was made."

"He's still staying with Doyle and Wes."

"That's if Doyle and Wes don't kick him out in the middle of the night."

"Yeah," she shrugged then, twisted her lips and looked around the room in discomfort.

"So…" he started. "Are we ok again?"

"I guess," she shrugged again. "It's not as if you scared me much. You just pissed me off."

"Here now," he scolded. "Watch your language."

"Bite me."

"If only."

* * *

Buffy was surrounded by a sea of sound.

Willow and Tara had retired to bed, but everyone else remained up, talking about the plans for getting the families out the next night. They were also taking frequent jaunts down memory lane. Recalling the fun times.

Like the time Wes taught them all to waltz, Doyle taught them an Irish jig and Buffy had persuaded Wesley to shake his booty, which was enough to make him blush even though it was over a year ago.

And the time when Anya and Doyle had a screaming argument in the hall and Wes got a black eye breaking them apart.

Like the time Willow levitated all the bolts out of the upstairs wall and most of them jammed into Spike's backside.

And though Buffy joined in the slightly too spirited conversation and laughed along with the others, she was mostly quiet.

She would find herself staring at her friends, trying to imagine their reactions to her revelation that Faith had showed up at the mansion.

Wesley would fall into yet another ashen-faced shock, coming back to life to ask probing questions she probably wouldn't see the significance of, let alone the answers.

Spike would ask her why she didn't kill her if she had gained the upper hand.

Dawn would probably "Oh my God," her way through the rest of Buffy's description, before answering Andrew's questions about the situation. And of course, she would be entirely biased.

Anya would grip Doyle's arm, while he shook his head and cursed the Powers for not warning them with a vision.

And when she thought about it, the reactions wouldn't be too bad. And Willow and Tara would probably be shocked, but they would take it in their stride. So it wouldn't be too terrible, she could deal. It would probably be best to tell them.

But then they would start asking why she was there, if they knew anything about their plans for evacuating the remaining residents, if she would break in again.

And it wouldn't matter if she told them; they could do no more about it than she could. It was stupid to burden them with it if it was done and over with.

So even as Buffy opened her mouth to tell them, she snapped it closed.

They didn't need to know.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Twelve**

Wesley and Anya weren't the only ones left up. They were, however, the only ones not training because they couldn't sleep. Doyle, Andrew and Tara had followed Willow to bed, leaving only Spike, Buffy, and Dawn fighting in the room next door.

There were a few hours before dawn and though Wes and Anya were beyond tired, neither wanted to abandon the other to a lonely vigil. Wesley wasn't in any rush to retire to a room that had Andrew in it. Doyle had yelled at him twice already and Wes was in no hurry to find out why. Anya wasn't ready to go up to bed, not wanting to hurry into the next day and ultimately the war.

So they reclined, yawning and dozing on the two couches and talked, bickering and punching each other in vague retaliation.

"I take it you're still denying the fact you fancy Doyle?" he asked after a moment's silence.

"I thought we'd been here, Wes?" she yawned. "I don't like Doyle much. He's annoying and a drinker. And he's Irish."

"And yet you like him," Wes answered.

"You're pushing it," she warned.

"But you're too tired to do anything about it," he grinned, dissolving immediately into a yawn. "Oh, come on, Anya, give it up, I can see right through you."

"Shut up."

"I'm hurt."

"You're annoying."

"Do I have to resort to threats?" he asked.

"Go ahead, it'll be funny."

"If you don't admit you have feelings for Doyle, I won't buy you a new dress to replace the one I ruined a couple of months back."

"Oh my God!" she said, sitting up. "I'd forgotten about that!"

"Really?" he laughed hesitantly. "I don't suppose you could forget again?"

She pursed her lips and settled back in the couch, shooting him a disgruntled look.

"Will you drop the I like Alan Francis Doyle bone? You've been at it since we went to kick the people out of their houses."

"Because I care," he told her sincerely. "About the both of you and I want you to be happy. So, Anya Jenkins, if you don't admit it, I'll come over there and kiss you," he pulled a face at her, she always brought out the juvenile side of him.

She sat up then, slowly, raising her eyebrows and eyeing him with a smirk. His stomach sank. Great, him and his big mouth.

"You wouldn't _dare_," she said.

"Oh, wouldn't I?" he responded; though wondered if she would call his bluff.

"No," she raked her eyes over him before meeting his eyes again; "I. Don't. Like. Doyle."

He frowned at her and she tossed her hair, grinning in victory. Hating that Anya might win this one; he swung his legs off the couch and stood. She blinked in surprise, but she obviously didn't expect him to come any closer.

But he did, closing the space between them rapidly. She noted the faint blush in his cheeks as he reached for her hand and drew her up from the couch. He wasn't the old Wesley, shy Watcher. He was confident now and he hated whenever Anya got the better of him. He hadn't exactly expected her to continue denying her feelings once he said he would kiss her. Trust Anya to call his bluff.

But it was just a kiss, he could do this. It was just a joke between friends. She stared at him, not quite believing he would go through with it. He leaned in to her and hesitated, before catching her suddenly around the waist and pulling her close, dropping a kiss on her lips.

She was shocked for a moment, but gently reciprocated, pleasantly surprised. He pulled away and let go of her waist, covering his embarrassment by rearranging his glasses on his nose. She batted him in the stomach and mock glared at him.

"Where did you learn to kiss like that?" she demanded.

"I must be a natural," he replied, as his blush faded at the fact it hadn't created any awkwardness. "And I do believe I've earnt something in return for that stunning display of lip-man-ship."

"You aren't going to give this up, are you?" she asked.

"Nope."

"Then fine! I like him, ok? In the way where I think he's hot, the way where I like his accent, his eyes, his hair. Even his damned annoying Irish ways. Happy now?"

"Yes… But I'd say that sounded more like love than like," he smiled cockily at her.

"Don't push it, Watcher-Boy," she warned.

He took her hand then and she raised an eyebrow.

"Don't even think it," he told her. "I'm merely making sure you don't walk into a wall while sleepwalking."

She gave him a shove and pulled her hand out of his.

"I'm not sleepwalking," she yawned. "Where are we going then?"

"To watch the others train," he answered. "it's either that or bed and I don't much fancy that. And it might be fun to watch Dawn and Buffy kick Spike's arse."

Anya contemplated that for a moment before shrugging.

"I guess," she answered, following him to the door. "And _you_ get to watch Buffy do all those gymnastics."

She shot him a shrewd look punctuated with a smirk and he glared at her, though his cheeks flushed red.

"I don't know where you got that impression from, Anya," he replied snootily, lifting his chin.

"About the same place you got my liking Doyle from," she replied sweetly, pushing past him to the door. She stopped and looked back at him. He was gaping at her and she couldn't decide whether he was angry or horrified. She shrugged, she was too tired to care. "You coming or not?"

He hesitated, before yawning and following her to the door.

* * *

Dawn was fast asleep on one of the couches pressed against the wall, while Buffy and Spike sparred across the room. Anya settled in beside Dawn, curling in the opposite end of the couch. Wes sank blearily into a chair and watched the Slayer and vampire with vague interest.

They were all tired, but no one wanted to sleep. Buffy and Spike were too wired from their long sparring match and neither Wes nor Anya wanted to hasten toward the following day.

Spike twisted away from Buffy's kick and ducked under her arm, landing an easy punch in her side. She faltered and Spike caught her wince with a raised eyebrow.

"Feeling a bit delicate, eh, Slayer?" he asked.

That pricked Anya's interest and she looked up. She always enjoyed the Spike and Buffy show.

"What?" she snapped, putting her hands on her hips.

"Barely touched you, Buffy, didn't even set the chip off," Spike pointed out and jutted his chin in the direction of her side. "So it couldn't have hurt enough to make you wince. You been in a fight?"

"No," she answered, but there was a slightly too defensive note to her voice.

"You haven't been injured in a previous training session, have you, Buffy?" Wes asked.

"Of course not," she scoffed.

"So what," Spike asked, reaching out, grabbing the edge of her top and yanking it up. "Is that?"

Anya leaned forward and gasped at the dark bruise winding around her side to her back. Buffy wrapped strong fingers around Spike's wrist, twisting visciousy and dragged his hand off her. She smoothed the top back down and glared at him.

"Don't you touch me," she hissed.

"Buffy, what happened?" Anya asked. "Who did that?"

"I got hurt during training," Buffy answered. "It's not a big deal."

"But you just said you didn't," Wes said.

"I _forgot_, ok?" she cried. "What? You've never made a mistake, Wes?"

He blinked and recoiled a little. He was suddenly very far away from the warm fuzzy feeling he had earlier. That friendly warmth from Anya, the weird stomach churning feeling that came from kissing her. Suddenly, here was the woman whose opinion he cared about, whose respect he cherished telling him with words, tone and body language that he wasn't as liked by her as he had thought.

"There was no need for that," he told her.

"You never lash out at Wesley," Anya said in a mystified tone.

"I'm tired and I'm worried, all right?" Buffy threw up her arms in defeat.

"We're all worried, Slayer," Spike said, he narrowed his eyes at her, studying her. "Right now, kinda worried about you."

"Spare me," she snapped and walked out of the room.

Spike and Anya exchanged glances and Dawn stirred. Wes stood up, face set angrily as he turned to Spike and Anya.

"Anya," Wes started. "I think Dawn would be more comfortable in bed."

"Yeah," she nodded, taking the hint and gently stirring Dawn.

Wes followed Buffy out of the room and Spike tailed him, not about to let the Watcher take all the Slayer's flak. Spike and Wes watched Anya guide a stumbling Dawn up the stairs before turning to look for Buffy.

They found the back door in one of the old parlours open and slipped out, finding Buffy seating on the stone steps, jaw clenched in anger.

"Are you going to tell us what's going on, Buffy?" Wes asked, voice tight but careful.

"No, because there's nothing going on," she answered without turning around.

"Pull the other one, Buffy," Spike said. "It's got bells on. Now, I've been around for a few years and I know a thing or two about Slayers," he paused, seeing her stiffen. "And I've never seen a Slayer bruise that badly."

She stayed silent and the two Englishmen exchanged glances.

"That's true," Wes agreed. "Please, we're just trying to help you."

"Well, you're not," she stood up, rounding on them angrily. "You're not helping! Either of you! None of you _are_ helping me! This whole thing is on _my_ head, not yours! It's _me_ that everyone expects to have all the answers, not you! And however hard you try to be second in command, Wes, you're not. I'm first, second and third in command. So yeah, there was a problem, I dealt with it. End of."

Wes sank further into the chill realisation that Buffy still held the same opinion of him she always had. And for one second, his affection and respect for her wavered into old territory, backing into his old opinion of her.

"I don't know what's happened to you, Buffy," Wes said coldly. "But I rather think I prefer the old you, the one who didn't think she was God. I'm sorry if you think I'm muscling in, but believe it or not, you _need_ the help. Remember back when this started? I do believe you thanked me for holding this all together."

"He's got a point, Buffy," Spike added. "As I recall, it was you and Wes here that put Willow back together. As far as I've seen, you and him have always been a team. You want to take this out on anyone, take it out on me. I'm the one that started this."

"Yeah, it was!" she replied. "And don't stick up for him! He can do that himself! Don't play the martyr, Spike, it doesn't match the Black Hat."

"Buffy," Wes cut in, as Spike curled his fingers into fists and leaned forward, glaring at Buff., "I don't think this is helping. I don't think all this friction will help us in this war."

"Nothing's going to help us in this war, Wesley!" Buffy shouted.

Spike and Wes started, the cold, empty truth of her words ringing in the air between the three of them.

"We've got a fighting chance," Spike protested. "You've said that, we've all said it."

"Saying it's one thing, Spike," Buffy told him. "I happen to know that there's more to it than that."

"This isn't helping," Wes put a calming hand on Spike's arm, squeezing a little. "Buffy, how did you get that injury?"

"You want to know?" Buffy cried. "You really want to know?"

"Yeah," Spike said.

"Faith," she spat. "Faith was here. She threatened me; in fact, it was pretty funny. We fought; I kicked her ass, _again_. So what are you two going to do about it? Go to the Mayor's and talk at her? 'Cause, let's face it, there's nothing else you can do. Spike's got a chip and there's no way Wes could face a Slayer. Has me telling you helped? Changed anything? No. So there was really no point to any of this. Thanks, guys. This _really_ helped. I _really_ needed this right now."

She pushed between the two of them and stomped inside up to bed. Spike turned slowly to Wes and raised an eyebrow. Wes looked at Spike, eyes wide. He ran his fingers through his hair.

"Bloody hell," he sighed.

"I've been saying that a lot lately, mate," Spike replied.


	13. Chapter 13

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Thirteen**

Dawn knocked hard on the door, bobbing on the balls of her feet, fighting the urge to enter the room. Half-naked Andrew, Doyle and Wesley was too much at this time of the morning. There was a low groan and a soft thump that sounded suspiciously like someone had thrown a pillow at the door.

She knocked again, calling through the door.

"The military are here, guys!" she called. "They're dropping stuff out back. Come see!"

There was another groan, but more resigned than the last one. There was the sound of feet hitting the wooden floor and padding toward the door. Dawn fidgeted, waiting for the door to swing open. There was a stumbling, a sickeningly thump as flesh hit the floor.

"Bloody hell!" she heard Wesley roar. "Andrew, you damned idiot! Move your arse!"

"No need to be rude," she heard Andrew mumble.

She heard Doyle laughing, mattress creaking and she saw why when Wesley opened the door. Doyle was rolling on his bed and Wes turned, jabbing a finger into Doyle's stomach.

"And you can shut up," he groused, rubbing his eyes before grabbing a shirt and pulling it on. "Are you two coming or not?"

Doyle stood up slowly; Andrew struggled out of the blankets and smiled nervously at Wes's murderous glare as he passed.

"Mornin', Dawnie," Doyle greeted cheering, tugging on jeans and a shirt. "Oh and Wes, man? I get first dibs on the shower."

"Hey!" Wes protested. "I was up first! I fell over Andrew!"

"You invited him to stay with us," Doyle shrugged. "Your own fault."

Wes glowered, jamming his hands in his pockets as he followed the group down to the ground floor. Buffy, Willow, Tara and Anya were already up, grabbing food parcels and piling them inside. Spike watched from the safety of the shadows. The guys went outside to help, grabbing the crates of weaponry and handing them to Spike who piled them by the door.

The chopper disappeared as soon as the last crate was left, the blades thumping the air as the group waved their thanks.

They backed inside the mansion, closing the door and turning like kids at Christmas to the crates of weaponry and food.

Tara approached Spike, who was eyeing a crossbow with a smile.

"She was happy last night."

Spike turned, startled to find Tara behind him. She raised her eyebrows at the crossbow he was pointing at her and he lowered it.

"Sorry, pet," he said. "You mean Willow then, right?"

"Yeah," she lowered her gaze. "Whatever you said, she was happy." She looked up. "Thank you."

She turned to leave him then, but he grabbed her arm, pulling her back again.

"I think I should be thanking you. I wouldn't have said anything if it wasn't for you," he narrowed his eyes slightly. "But what I still don't get is why. Why would you do that?"

"I…" she tailed off. "To be honest, I don't know. I guess I just wanted her to be happy. If that means being with you, then there's nothing I can do."

"Well… Thanks."

"It's ok," she shrugged. "Now, are you going to share the crossbows?"

He grinned and handed her the one he held before delving into the crate to get another one.

Across the room, Buffy straightened up, smiling slightly as she studied the axe she had retrieved. She moved back a little to allow the others access to the crates. She glanced up to find she was standing next to Wesley.

_"It's _me_ that everyone expects to have all the answers, not you! And however hard you try to be second in command, Wes, you're not. I'm first, second and third in command."_

He was studiously ignoring her, cocking a shotgun before aiming it and smiling, obviously impressed. She saw his gaze flick toward her, but then focused back on the gun.

She swallowed hard. She had gone to bed immediately after their argument and they hadn't seen each other since then. Spike had given her a look when he came downstairs to help, but fell into sarcasm. She could handle that; Spike was very rarely not sarcastic with her. Wesley, however, she didn't know how approach.

She fixed a pleasant and enthusiastic grin onto her face and looked at him.

"Hey, we really got that arsenal, didn't we?" she said brightly.

"Well, yes," he answered, glancing at her. "That's what you asked for. You got what you wanted."

There was something accusatory in his voice.

"It's what we needed," she said defensively.

"Right," he nodded. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to get to the shower before Doyle."

He placed the shotgun on an unopened crate and walked away from her. Buffy watched him go, then looked down at the axe clutched in her fist. She sighed and put it on the crate beside the shotgun. She watched the others gleefully check out the weaponry and couldn't resist the tiniest of smiles.

She watched Willow grab Tara's shoulders and Tara turned from where she was studying the crossbows with Spike. They had a brief discussion and made to leave the room together.

"Hey, Buffy," Willow grinned as they passed her. "Tara and I are going to remove the hypnosis. Unless you want something else?"

"No, that's ok. We've got everything."

"More than," Tara added, looking at the piles of weapons.

"Yeah," Buffy agreed.

The two witches left and Buffy went to Andrew to take away the sword he was wealding a little too enthusiastically.

She let out a sigh, as her eyes drifted up to where the water pipes could be heard clanking. Everyone else was chattering brightly, you wouldn't think there was a war coming the following day.

But there was and that was why Buffy was going to swallow her pride and apologise.

Right now.

As soon as he left the bathroom.

* * *

Two hours later, after a hearty breakfast, the group crowded into the living room. The weapons were unpacked, everyone having chosen something in particular. Buffy had called a meeting and was standing before them. Wes was still avoiding her; his head turned to the left, staring out of the windows.

"I've, uh, I've got something to tell you," she started and the hesitation in her voice was enough to earn her the group's rapt attention.

She saw Spike and Wes exchange glances and Anya shot her a shrewd look.

"Yesterday," she went on. "While you were down here, I went up to sort through some stuff and, um… Faith was here."

"What?" Dawn cried. "Faith was here and you didn't say anything? Yesterday afternoon, Buffy! Most of us didn't go to bed before midnight, you could have told us!"

"I know," she said. "But I didn't want to worry you guys. And I dealt with it."

"Define _dealt with it,_" Wes said.

She stared at him. Isn't this what he wanted? For her to let them in? She was doing this in the vague hope that it might butter him up for when she went to apologise. Instead, he was doing this. Being all cold Watcher Wes. Well, she wasn't going to rise to it.

"I kicked her ass," she said. "In other words, we fought, I won."

"Not before she landed one on you," Spike pointed out.

"Yes," Buffy conceded. "But the point is, I got her out."

"What did she want?" Doyle asked.

"She was just threatening, like she always did," Buffy shrugged.

"But you got rid of her?" Willow said.

"Yeah. She's gone. She wasn't as strong as she used to be. Two years in a coma take their toll, I guess," Buffy lowered her gaze, guilt evident in her voice.

"Do you think they know about the war?" Tara asked.

"Yeah," Anya chipped in. "If they know, what do we do?"

"We should assume they know," Buffy said slowly. "But they probably don't know about the escape tonight."

"And if they do?" Anya asked.

"That's what the arsenal's for," Buffy pointed out.

"I can't believe Faith was here," Dawn muttered, shaking her head. "I can't believe you didn't tell us before now."

"It doesn't make much difference, Dawn," Wes said. "It just means that we should be more on our guard. I daresay Buffy thought she was doing the best thing by not telling us."

Buffy stared at him once more. Great, now he agrees with her. She really didn't like Wes like this.

"I was," she nodded. "So, uh, now I've told you… I think we should train. Get used to the weapons so we're good for tonight."

There were murmurs of assent and slowly, the group stood up, slightly shocked. Buffy smiled at them, reaching for the axe she had chosen. She scanned the crowd for Wesley, deciding that now was the perfect time to apologise. She watched the guys pair off, moving into different rooms or to different areas of the room she was in.

She saw him grab the shotgun and a sword and leave the room. She was about to follow when Spike tapped her shoulder.

"Care to dance, Slayer?" he asked, lifting a sword.

"Spike, I -"

"Leave him be," he said. "I think he's over it, but you bruised his manly pride. Give him a little longer."

She heaved a long sigh and gripped her axe, swinging it up suddenly, making him jump back with a cry, bringing up his sword in defence.

"Thanks for the advice," she replied, ducking away from his blow and laughing.

* * *

"Silly little things," the Mayor sighed, watching the chopper shrink and disappear over the horizon. "Looking for help in the worst place. I mean, the military!" he chuckled. "A power as ancient as the Slayer, combining forces with something as brash and modern as the military! Makes me feel ill."

Faith glanced up from the magazine she was reading, legs swung over the arm of a chair. He turned away from the window and grinned at her.

"What?" she asked.

"I've got some news," he teased.

"You managed to get some Twinkies?" she answered.

"I wouldn't let my girl have anything so bad for her," he said. "It's fruit for you. No, I have news about Buffy."

"The war she's going to start?" Faith asked. "I know about that."

"I meant something else."

"Something else," she dropped her magazine to the floor and sat up properly. "Sounds intriguing, Boss."

"It is," he sat down on a stool opposite her. "Tonight, at midnight, they're going to help the last residents escape. You and I are going to stop them."

"How do you know this?" she asked, awe-struck.

"Demons with powers," he replied sagely. "Far more interesting than the Slayer's friends. So, are you excited? You'll get you're shot at Buffy's friends. Then, she'll start her war tomorrow."

"Or I could kill her tonight and there won't be any war," Faith offered.

"No," he mused. "I'll give her friends their due, they'll go ahead with or without her. I thought we'd let her think she was doing ok. Then when she stops to gloat, she'll see her friends dying around her, she'll know there's nothing she can do. And that will be your moment, Faith. You can take her out as she gives up. There's nothing like that. It's like a release," he grinned. "But a painful one."

Faith chuckled.

"Sounds like fun," she stood up, going to her closet to flick through the new clothes he had bought her. "I think I should dress up."

* * *

The night was heavy and dark, tasted like dust and death. There was no moon, barely any stars. It made Buffy shudder, the only lights had hidden themselves away and Buffy wondered what horrors they were trying to avoid.

She turned to look at the guys behind her, expressions ranging from blank to nervous. They had trained earlier, enough to get comfortable with their weapon of choice, but not enough to tire them. She had apologised to Wes, though she wasn't happy with his reaction.

"Don't worry, Buffy. We all make mistakes. I had no right to push you. Forget it."

And that was it. She glanced at him and he returned her gaze impassively.

The families they were helping escape were huddled together, the army surrounding them, eyes darting around to check the night.

They got to the border without incident. But Buffy didn't think it would be that easy. It never was. Cold foreboding crawled up her spine and she fought to keep her breathing calm and level. They were almost at the border, Buffy could see it and she resisted the urge to race toward it.

The night seemed to breathe. Trees seemed to bow lower and Buffy realised with a jolt of horror that she was so close to panic that she could almost taste it.

"Slayer," Spike hissed, leaning down to talk into her ear. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

"You and me both," she answered.

Spike turned his head sharply, staring at a derelict house on the opposite side of the street.

"Slayer," he said again, his voice agitated and it made Buffy's shoulders itch with rising panic. "We should move."

She turned back to look at the group.

"Move faster," she urged, moving into a jog that the others imitated.

She fixed her eyes on the derelict house across the street, felt ice plummet into her stomach.

"Run!" she screamed, stopping and lifting her axe as the front of the garage shattered.

There were screams from the families and Buffy heard Doyle's voice amongst the clamour, urging them on and trying to calm them down. Spike stayed at Buffy's side, as the others surged on with the families.

The snake's heavy body hit the floor and Buffy felt the ground tremble as it slid toward her with a dry rasp.

"Well, lookee here," it rumbled.

With a savage yell, Spike leapt forward, his sword slashing through the air. The snake blinked and chortled, snapping at the vampire as Spike attempted to drive the sword into the roof of the snake's mouth.

Buffy was about to dive into the fight, when she heard her name.

Or more precisely, her initial.

"Hey, B, how about we pick up where we left off?"

Buffy turned away from Spike and ran toward Faith. Taking the dark haired Slayer by surprise, she held the axe in two hands, using the handle to drive Faith into a wall.

"Take a look, _F_," Buffy hissed. "That's your precious boss. An overgrown reptile. This is whose side you're on."

"I know," Faith grinned, punching Buffy in the stomach. "Great, huh?"

Buffy straightened up and drove the base of the axe into Faith's chin, snapping her head back. She turned away and started to run toward her friends and the families. She could hear Faith laughing, echoing the Mayor.

"Spike, c'mon!" Buffy yelled over her shoulder, jumping over the bonnet of a burnt out car and racing toward the family.

She heard the rasp of snakeskin flesh sliding along after the pounding of Spike's boots. When she reached the others, they were fighting off a small group of vampires, desperately urging the terrified people over the border.

"Go, you silly cow!" Doyle yelled, punching vampire and turning to grab a woman by the arm and giving her a sharp push over the border.

Buffy entered the fray, calling to Willow, Tara and Dawn to leave the fight and help the people.

But the Mayor was upon them, Faith at his side, grinning as she slammed her fists into whoever was closest. The foreboding was making Buffy's arms ache as she saw three terrified families running down the main road that left Sunnydale.

Three families gone, two more to go.

The Mayor watched what was going on, tossing his head and Buffy thought he was smiling as he watched Faith attack. Faith's foot sent Wesley sprawling and her fists knocked Andrew to one side.

But, Buffy noted, the vampires were gone, dusted. So long as they got the people away, they could run. Run and get out the heavy artillery.

Buffy saw Doyle push the final people across the border and she almost gave into the relief, before checking to see there was one more person. But as Buffy twisted to run towards the last person, a young woman, clutching her daughter, the Mayor dived down.

And as Buffy's fingers reached to wrap around the woman's arm, she was gone. The Mayor's mouth closed around her and her daughter and she was gone.

She didn't even see it coming. She didn't get a chance to scream.

"Guys!" Buffy yelled, eyes fixed on the spot the woman had been as she forced the tremble out of her voice. "We're going! Come on!"

They didn't need telling twice and they surged back, shouldering the weapons, grabbing injured friends. The Mayor reared up to watch them leave, laughing all the while.

But Faith was frozen. Fists still clenched as she stared up at her boss.

* * *

The Mayor had long since retired to bed, telling Faith that a heavy meal always made him sleepy.

She had thought it was cool, as they stood in the garage and he changed. It had made her seethe because she hadn't been there to see it that first time on Graduation Day.

And she had enjoyed it all. The fighting, decking Wesley, seeing Buffy's face when she turned to save the people.

Faith gave an involuntary shudder, drawing the blankets up around her shoulders. She knew what he would have to do, she had known he had eaten people. But she didn't care. Stupid people who had thrown her dirty looks as she sauntered through the halls of Sunnydale High. It didn't matter to her if they died.

So why did seeing him eat that woman make her feel sick? Make her force a smile at him when he talked about the carnage of war?

She had seen the woman and her child at the same time Buffy did. The shaking, sobbing woman and the wide brown eyes of her terrified daughter. But Faith had pretended she hadn't noticed them, knowing that Buffy would get them out and they would be ok.

Only they weren't.

They were dead.

And Faith had watched her Boss do that. It made her sick. Maybe she wasn't as tough as she thought.

_Or maybe,_ she suddenly thought, _it's a one off. Something he feels as bad about as I do._

She threw the blankets back and pulled on her clothes. She wanted answers. She wanted to know if this is the sort of person Richard Wilkins was.

She didn't know what she would do if she found out that he really was just a monster. She didn't have the faintest idea.

But she did know that her world was turning, sending what she thought she knew out of the window as she floated through, adrift in her doubt. She couldn't live like that, she had spent two years in a coma, she wasn't going to spend another two years wondering about what she was doing. Questioning if she really knew the Mayor, if she still believed in him. She knew he cared about her, she _knew_ that. But could she go on caring about him if he didn't care about - or even enjoyed - killing a mother and her child?

She didn't know.

But she did know who would have the answers she needed.

She slipped out of the window, struggling not to run and draw attention to her footfalls.

When she reached the end of the street, she turned right, running as fast as she could toward the mansion.


	14. Chapter 14

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Fourteen**

They were quiet, failure weighing heavy on them as they entered the main room. Buffy pushed her hair off her face, noticing abstractly that her palm was bleeding. They were all nursing injuries and Buffy swiftly took each of them in. The injuries were minor, cuts and bruises, split lips. Nothing they hadn't dealt with before. In fact, they were pretty well off; they had sported worse injuries.

"Are you all right?" she asked, sinking onto a stool and leaning back against the wall.

"We're fine," Spike answered.

"We've had worse," Wes added flatly.

"Did, um, did everyone get out?" Dawn asked, her eyes looking strangely large and innocent in her white face. "Apart from those… everyone else?"

"Yeah," Doyle nodded. "They all got away," there was a hard edge to his voice and he threw his sword to the ground in anger. "The bastard! She was only young! She had a kid! Jesus!"

Anya grabbed his hands, wrapping both of hers around his and squeezing. She put one hand up to his hair, gently soothing him before slipping her arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. He slumped against her, sighing and closing his eyes.

"I can't believe it," Tara whispered. "I knew he was bad, evil, y'know. But I never thought he would kill a child."

"Why not?" Andrew asked bitterly. "He killed my brother."

Dawn glanced at him. He was slumped forward, staring at his hands, not looking at anyone. She touched his back and he jumped, looking at her, but allowed her to gently rub his back in reassurance.

"We should get cleaned up," Wes said after a moment's silence.

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "Spike, I want you up about an hour before dawn. You'll go to the Mayor's and once everyone has left, you can take out the vampires, we can't risk them joining the fight if it goes on into the evening."

Spike nodded, shrugging.

"What about the rest of us?" Tara asked.

"Up before dawn," Buffy answered. "You and Willow will work the magicks. I want you to back everyone up. The rest of you will fight."

"And the Mayor?" Wes asked.

"Leave him to me," Buffy said. "I've got a plan. Look, it's late, we're tired and drained. I'll tell you tomorrow when we've had some sleep. It's pretty straightforward, ok?"

"Yeah," Willow nodded. "C'mon, Andrew. Let's see what I can do about that cut."

She stood up and went to him. He stood with Dawn and followed her out of the room, head bowed.

"You too," Anya told Doyle in a low voice, standing and pulling him up too.

Tara watched them, noted the slight frostiness between Buffy and Wesley and turned to Spike. She placed warm, soft hands over his, gently prying his white knuckled grip from his sword. It clattered to the floor, obscenely loud in the silence. She squeezed his shoulder, drawing his attention away from the streets of Sunnydale and back to the mansion.

"You've hurt your wrist," she said, touching the swollen joint gently.

"It'll heal," he answered, voice empty.

"Let's make sure," she answered and they left the room after the others.

Buffy moved from her place by the wall and sat beside Wesley on the couch.

"Before you say anything," he said. "I want you to know that none of what happened tonight is your fault. There was nothing you could do."

"Maybe," she answered quietly.

"No maybe about it," he replied firmly and stood up, leaving before she even realised what happened.

She stared at the door for a moment, before sighing and gathering the fallen weapons together.

* * *

Having cleaned up Andrew's cuts, Willow was sitting on her bed, carefully packing everything back into the First Aid box. Anya was in Doyle's room, patching him up and for once, he couldn't be heard grumbling good naturedly at her.

In fact, there was silence everywhere. Guilt weighed heavy on mansion and even as she thought it, the image of the Mayor devouring the woman and child reared inside her mind. But like the others, Willow had seen so much death; she was adept at hiding it away. She knew it wasn't her fault, knew there was nothing she could have done. But it didn't stop her feeling like she should have done _something._

She gulped hard, pushing the memory away.

Which only left one other thing to think about besides the war.

Spike.

She pushed the First Aid kit away and leaned back. She had promised to think about it. And she had. Really hard. But every time she got close to a reason why she shouldn't even consider anything with Spike, she remembered the way he made her feel. When he came to her the day before, when he tried to kiss her again. She remembered how hard it had been to push him away.

God, it had felt so long since she had felt that. And right now, she wanted it more than anything. She swung her legs over the bed and smoothed her jeans and shirt. She strode determinedly out of the room and along the hall to Spike's room. She knocked on the door gently and opened it, finding Spike tugging on a new shirt with a bandage wrapped tenderly around his wrist.

"Red," he said, turning around. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she answered. "I just… We go to war tomorrow."

"Yeah, I heard that was scheduled."

"I guess I… I don't want to be alone."

He stared at her, taking a few steps toward her. She did the same, a slight smile on her face.

"Is that right?" he asked in a low voice.

She nodded and sank into his open arms. He held her tightly and for the first time in a while, she didn't feel afraid.

* * *

"You should make up."

Wes looked up, bandage clenched in his teeth as he attempted to bind a cut along his forearm. He had only just come into his room after sitting with Doyle and Spike. Spike, having been patched up by Tara, had been talking to Doyle and Wes wanted to make sure they were both all right. Maybe he should have looked for Tara to bind his arm; she had done a good job with Spike.

"Ott?" he asked, voice muffled around the bandage.

Anya sighed, coming toward him, sinking to her knees before him and pulling the bandage out of his mouth. Slowly and carefully, she bound it tightly around his arm.

"You should make up," she repeated after a moment. "With Buffy, I mean."

"We have - ahh!" he hissed as she pulled a little too tightly, she smiled apologetically.

"Not properly," she said. "And I think there's more to it than that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he huffed.

"I know she hurt you, Spike told me what she said to you, but take a minute to think why what she hurt so much. If it was me, you wouldn't care. It was because it was her."

She knotted the bandage and stood up. She smiled a little at him before bending down, putting a hand to the back of his neck and drew him close to kiss his forehead.

"Think about it," she urged in a whisper.

"Anya," he said suddenly as she crossed the room.

"Yeah?" she turned to him, one hand on the doorframe.

"Are you all right?" he brushed his finger over his cheekbone and she touched the bruise on hers.

"I'm fine," she nodded. "Just remember. Think about it."

He sat perfectly still as she left and for a long moment after. Slowly, he ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled hard. He stood a little shakily and left the room, crossing the hall to knock on Buffy's bedroom door. It swung open and she blinked at him for a second before smiling widely.

"Hey," she greeted. "I kinda hoped I'd see you."

She pushed the door open and stepped aside. He smiled and entered at her silent invitation.

* * *

Doyle drummed his fingers on his knee. Spike and Wes had left him sitting alone on the stairs a while ago. Doyle rubbed his fingers over his cheekbone, feeling the Band-Aid Anya had placed there with a smile.

Goddamn Wesley Wyndham-Pryce and William the Bloody. Stirring up things that ought to have been left well alone.

"You know, Doyle, Anya does have feelings for you."

"Don't be daft, Wes, man."

"I'm with Pryce on this one. The girl lights up whenever you're in the room."

"You're both insane. Anya can't stand me, I irritate her. What, you been walking around with your eyes closed?"

"That's how she shows her feelings. It's a bloody terrible way of doing it, but you've got to make allowances for ex-demons."

"And she admitted it. She said she thinks you're hot, she likes your accent, hair and eyes. Oh, and even your damned annoying Irish ways. Which is actually a direct quote. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I ought to see to my arm."

And off Wes went, followed by Spike. Leaving Doyle to take in this brand new, shocking information. Anya. Liked him. In that way. Well, there was a curveball if ever he saw one. He glanced back, saw Anya go to Wesley's room. Now there was a couple he could believe in. What with all their little arguments, teasing, it could easily be more than - oh. He and Anya kinda had the argument and teasing thing.

With a low groan, he leaned his head against the banisters and closed his eyes.

There was no way he and Anya could…anything. No way. They weren't compatible at all. Though he had to admit, she was one beautiful woman. _Dear God, what am I thinking?_

What the hell _was_ he thinking? That Anya was beautiful? That he was attracted to her? He heard the wooden floor of the hallway creak, Anya was returning to her room and he glanced up. She didn't see him. Without thinking, or even processing the consequences, he got up, ran up the stairs and put a hand on the door as Anya tried to shut it. Anya turned sharply, fist clenched.

"Woah," he said, holding up his hands in defence.

"Oh, Doyle," she breathed, then frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Wanted to see you," he answered. "That so wrong, Anya?"

"No," she answered, walking into her room and raising her eyebrows at him. "Coming in?"

"Uh, yeah," he shrugged, buried his hands in his pockets and shuffled in after her.

"Something wrong, Doyle?" Anya asked. "You can tell me, y'know."

"Look, Anya… This is kinda…. Hard."

"What is?"

"Wes said something…"

Anya continued to just look at him, before her eyes widened, her cheeks flushed and she leapt up.

"I'll kill him!" she shouted. "It was supposed to be just between us! Stupid, stupid Englishman!"

"Hey, hey, now," Doyle caught her arm. "Guy cares about you, thought I oughta know."

Anya wrenched her arm from his grasp, breathing shallow and hard.

"Yeah, well now you do. So get it over with."

"What over with?"

"Telling me that you don't feel that way about me. Hurry up, I've got things to do."

"Can you postpone 'em?" he asked.

"Well, there we - huh?"

"We go to war tomorrow, I don't know about you, but I don't fancy being alone tonight."

"What are… I'm not sleeping with you," she folded her arms.

"Not asking you to," he replied, crooking a finger under her chin. "Though I wouldn't say no to a kiss."

"Alan Francis Doyle, you -" her voice was lost in a whimper as he pressed his lips to her.

He felt her arms wrap around his neck and instinctively tightened his hold around her waist.

_"Hey, this seat free?"_

_"What? Oh, right, yeah."_

_"I'm Anya."_

_"Doyle, pleased to meet ya. You waiting for the Sunnydale bus?"_

_"Yeah, you?"_

_"Yeah… but, not the best place for a girl like you."_

_"I know, Hellmouth."_

_"You know?"_

_"Oh, yeah. I used to be a demon. Have you been a half-demon all your life?"_

_"What… Half-demon… I don't…"_

_"I used to be a demon, I can still sense these things."_

_"Oh, right. And you… don't mind?"_

_"Why would I?"_

Her easy acceptance then didn't feel half as good as she did in his arms right then.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Buffy said after a moment's silence.

"You've said that. I told you to forget it," Wes answered, wondering why this was so very hard.

"I should have told you before," she looked up. "You're right, I do need the help. I kinda learnt that tonight. We would have lost far more than we did if I hadn't had you guys."

"Maybe," he shrugged. "But as it is, we lost a mother and her child. There's nothing to be proud of."

"I know," she answered, sniffing. That caught his attention and his stoic expression melted as he stepped forward and touched her shoulder.

"Buffy…?"

"It's not fair, Wesley!" she burst out and he was horrified to see that she was crying. "You were right. I do need the help. If I had asked for help, if I had talked to you about the plans for tonight, none of this would have happened."

"Don't be stupid," he answered gently. "You did all you could. You accounted for the Mayor's attack and we followed the plan. You and Spike kept the Mayor back long enough for us to reach the border. It's not your fault the Mayor…" he tailed off. "It's not your fault. These things happen. I hate that they do, but that's the way it is. You can't be held accountable for every little thing."

"But maybe if I hadn't been so distracted," she said. "I could have saved her."

"No," he said, griping her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. "There was _nothing_ you could do. You were too far away. I saw that. Buffy, listen to me. We're a team, remember? Don't you _dare_ try and shoulder this yourself."

She wiped her eyes then, chuckling a little as she smiled at him.

"I won't dare," she took a deep breath. "But it gets to me, y'know? Sacred birthright, destiny, the Slayer, the Chosen One."

"I know, I learnt the spiel," he replied wryly.

"Well, sometimes, it's hard to get past all that. I shouldn't have lashed out at you. I'm sorry."

"You really are having trouble with the _forget it_ thing, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I know. But I just want to say - and then I swear I'll forget it - if anyone is second in command around here, it's you."

He couldn't stop the smile that spread warmly across his face at her words. Pride swelled beneath his ribs, warm and fuzzy. He dropped his arms from her shoulders in surprise, a goofy grin on his face. She smiled at his delight and patted his arm.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"It's the truth," she shrugged. "God, I'm so tired. We'll have to be up at dawn."

"Yes," he nodded, "I know."

"You think you'll sleep?"

"It's doubtful. But I suppose everyone feels that way."

"Yeah," she nodded. "So… are we good?"

"We're fine," he smiled. "I'm sorry. I know I'm a complete arse at times. I should have accepted your apology properly before. I thought that maybe -"

He was interrupted by a thud on the balcony. He and Buffy jumped and looked toward the window. A figure pushed against the French window and stepped into the room. Wes thought his heart might stop in fear as he recognised the way the woman tugged her fingers, those dark leather pants, wild brown hair and large haunted eyes.

Faith.

"B," Faith started and Wes swung his gaze toward Buffy who had dropped into a defensive posture. Faith noticed Wesley and turned to him, pleading. "Wesley, please. I just want to talk. I didn't come here to fight."

"I told you to get out," Buffy gritted out. "I told you never to come back."

"I need to know something," Faith said, fighting the urge to mirror Buffy's defensive position.

"What?" Wes forced out; his mouth dry, his throat felt closed off.

"The… The Mayor…" Faith started, head down, staring at her hands as she tried to figure this whole thing out. "What he did tonight… Was it a… A one-off?"

"A one off?" Buffy mocked. "Are you that stupid? He _eats_ people, Faith. He eats anyone. He doesn't care if they're young, old, a mother, pregnant, a little kid."

She resisted the urge to grab Faith bodily and throw her out of the window. And she ignored the tiny voice in the back of her mind that told her Faith needed help. Buffy didn't give a damn whether Faith needed help or not. As far as she was concerned, Faith had done nothing to earn anyone's help. And this stupid little game where she tried to look all upset about that woman and child was _not_ working.

"No," Faith whispered. "_No, _you're just saying that! He wouldn't hurt -" she stopped, grasping for something to protect her boss. "He wouldn't hurt little kids! It must have been an accident!"

"He ate most of the Sunnydale Graduating class, Faith," Wes said quietly. "And then moved onto their families. From what I saw, he didn't trip and fall on that woman with his mouth open. It was deliberate. You know that."

"He wouldn't…" she said. "He takes care of me. He wouldn't hurt kids."

"Weren't you watching tonight?" Buffy snapped. "That woman didn't even get a chance to _scream._ Her daughter didn't get the chance to get away. I watched him swallow them whole. Don't tell me you missed that."

"I don't…" Faith shook her head, sank against a battered closet.

"Faith?" Wes ventured.

Buffy watched in horrified fascination as he took a few steps toward her and bent slightly. There was no way he could be falling for this… this stunt!

"I can't… I don't know what to do," she said softly. "I can't go back there… I don't… How can I?"

"You don't have to," Wes told her. "You don't have to go back to him. You can leave his side."

"And do what?" she asked, looking up and meeting his eyes with a ferocity that made him take a step away from her. "Fight with you guys? Like you'd trust me enough."

"You're right," Buffy snapped. "Leave her, Wes. This is just some stupid trick of the Mayor's. Just get out, Faith. You knew he was a monster, you were going to sit at his right hand, remember? Don't act like you've got a conscience now. Now get out before I throw you out. Literally."

Faith stood up, stared at Buffy for a moment, then nodded and took a step back. She should have known this wouldn't help. She was as lost as ever. She had her answers, but she didn't know what to do with them. The Mayor really was evil, just a monster. And Faith was a Slayer. Where did that leave her? Unable to be in the Mayor's presence without shuddering and unable to turn to her one time friend.

That left her where she had always been.

On her own.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't… I shouldn't have come here. I didn't…" she shook her head, chuckled bitterly and slipped out of the window, jumping over the balcony.

"Can you believe her?" Buffy raged; grabbing the French window and slamming it closed.

"Buffy…" Wes said vaguely, forehead creased in thought. Something was familiar, an echo of Buffy's voice recounting something. Something that he was starting to understand.

"She really expects us to believe that she didn't think he'd kill innocent little children? Of all the low-down, dirty, _stupid_ little tricks to pull."

"Buffy…"

"Y'know, I thought for a minute there she was going to ask to help us. If she had, I would have lost it. Really. I swear, I don't know what I would have done if -"

"_Buffy_!"

"What?"

"Human weakness," he said urgently.

_"… But he also accepted her. Took her just as she is. Be careful, Buffy. Faith has always needed someone, somewhere to fit in, some place to belong. Human weakness, remember?"_

"You mean…" she frowned, piecing it together. "We need her on side? Accept her, take her just as she is?"

"Her human weakness is needing someone," Wes agreed.

"Will we lose if she's not on our side?" Buffy asked.

"Why else would Angel come to you?" he replied.

"Oh my God," Buffy muttered. "What have I done?"

"Something that can be easily put right," he answered. "Go after her."

"I can't do this," she said. "I can't. She has done things, Wesley… She killed people, tried to kill Angel. She would have killed me given the chance. I can't go after her and beg her to come to our side. Not after all that."

"At the risk of arguing with you again," Wes said carefully. "You _did_ put her into a coma for two years. Yes, she's done things - awful things - but maybe you owe her one chance."

"But -"

"If we are to win this war, Buffy, you have to do things you don't want to do. I understand your aversion to this, but… Maybe you should just talk to her," he grinned at her. "If anything happens, we all know who'll win in a fair fight."

She smiled at that, but ran her hands through her hair.

"I don't know if I can do this, Wesley," she said quietly.

He took her forearms and pulled them away from her hair, gripping them tightly.

"Listen to me," he said. "You're the Slayer. Yes, we're a team and yes, we share the blame and the glory. But it's because of _you_ we've got this far. If you can get a group like us through two years here, you can talk to a young girl that really just needs someone. I believe in you, Buffy. I _know_ you can do this. If I didn't, I wouldn't be this calm about what's going to happened tomorrow."

"You were pretty calm about Graduation Day," she replied.

"You should have seen me before I came to the library. I'm not sure gibbering wreak quite covers it."

She pulled her hands from his and went to the window, pulling it open.

"Wesley -"

"Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on them. I don't think anyone's spending tonight alone. They're fine."

"That's good. Thanks, Wes."

He shrugged it off and watched her go out onto the balcony. She gripped the edge and sighed. She swung a leg over the balcony, then the other settled on the balcony's edge for a moment.

_"I mean, you have to make a choice."_

Buffy made her choice. Pushing with her hands and swinging her legs, she jumped off the balcony and hit the ground running, determined to catch up with Faith.

Wes watched her disappear and breathed out a long sigh, wondering why he felt like he hadn't said all he needed to.


	15. Chapter 15

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Fifteen**

The night was beautiful above them. Warm and welcoming. There was no moon, no stars and Dawn felt the same way her sister had earlier that night. Like the heavenly bodies were hiding from some future horror. Dawn shuddered and Tara glanced at her.

"Are you ok, sweetie?" she asked.

"Yeah," Dawn answered. "Just… I can't get it out of my mind… And it'll be worse tomorrow."

"Don't," Andrew said, his voice tight. "I don't want to think about it."

"Are we going to stay up here all night?" Dawn asked, changing the subjects.

"Well, it's the night before a war and all that sexual tension's about to explode down there," Andrew shrugged. "I don't think I want to walk in on any of it."

"Who do you think's with who?" Dawn asked conversationally.

"I think Doyle and Anya," Tara suggested.

"Really?" Dawn raised her eyebrows. "See, I couldn't decide on Wes and Anya or Doyle and Anya."

"Oh, Wes and Anya just fight," Tara said, "Anya looks at Doyle like he's the only guy in the room."

"Huh," Dawn nodded. "And I suppose it's pretty obvious that Willow and Spike are together."

"Yeah," Andrew agreed. "Don't you think they make the cutest couple?"

Tara declined to answer, tilting her head back to gaze at the empty heavens. She knew as well as the other two what was going on below them and while she thought it was a good thing for most of them, the idea of Willow and Spike did not fill her with joy. Especially when she realised she had helped them get together.

She thought Dawn might have noticed her discomfort, because the conversation swung quickly away from Willow and Spike.

"What about Wesley?" Dawn asked. "You think he's on his own?"

"Nah," Andrew shook his head. "He's with Buffy."

"Oh, Andrew, ewww!"

Tara laughed gently.

"I thought you liked Wes, Dawn?" she asked.

"It's not that. It's just _I_ remember how she used to complain about him when he first showed up. That's the main reason I liked him. I suppose they work, but…"

"Have you got a crush on him?" Andrew accused.

"No!" Dawn protested. "Please! That is so - so... _stupid_," she sighed, ignoring Andrew's smirk. "Can you believe we're stuck up here while everyone else is enjoying romantic stuff?"

There were murmurs of agreement and in the silence, they heard a distant thump and the sound of a window swinging open.

"Think we'll be ok?" Andrew whispered.

"What?" Tara glanced across at him.

"Tomorrow," he elaborated. "You think we'll get out of it ok."

"Yeah," Tara nodded. "Willow and I talked about doing to do this spell Wes told us about that will increase everyone's strength. We're going to be backing you guys up with magick and it'll be fine."

"What about Spike?" Dawn asked suddenly. "How are we going to know if he's ok at the Mayor's?"

"He's stronger than any of the Mayor's vampires," Tara said firmly. "Don't worry. We're all going to be fine."

"Ok, so say we win," Andrew started. "What then? Are we going to stick around here?"

"No," Tara shook her head. "What's to stay for? There's nothing here. I guess we'll move on."

"I hope we stick together," Dawn said in a low voice. "I couldn't stand it if after all this time we all went to different places."

"We'll have to see, Dawnie," Tara said, slipping an arm around her shoulders and giving a squeeze. "We'll just have to see."

The three of them fell silent, huddling together on the roof and staring across Sunnydale. Not one of them heard the people jump from the balcony below.

* * *

Willow shifted slightly, tucking her hand around Spike's waist and lifting her head so she could look up at him. He looked down at her from where he was leaning back in the pillows, arms hugging her around the waist.

"What's up, pet?" he asked in a low voice. "You should sleep, y'know."

"Are you scared?" she whispered. "About tomorrow. Are you scared?"

"No more than usual," he replied. "I know I can handle myself. Slayer's got me taking out the vamps at the Mayor's place. I won't be in the thick of it what with the sunshine and all. If anything, I'm worried about you."

"Don't be," she grinned. "Tara and I are going to get the mojo working. We've decided that if everyone's ok with it, we're going to pump up their strength. Then we'll be backing up the fight. We're like the heavy artillery."

He chuckled, shaking his head.

"Now there's something I'd like to see," he said.

"I guess I'll have to give you a display sometime."

"I guess you will," he frowned suddenly. "Red…?"

"Mmmm?"

"After this battle. What you going to do?"

"Do?" she wrinkled her nose. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it. Leave here, obviously. I suppose I'll go wherever Buffy and Dawn go. They're all I've got left now. Mom and Dad are gone. I wouldn't want to lose them too. And you'll come with us, won't you?"

He raised an eyebrow at that.

"You want me to tag along with you, the Slayer and Bit?"

"Well, why not?" she asked. "I mean, you and I could… be together. Y'know?"

"Yeah," he mused. "I guess there's a plus side to it. So, you inviting me along, Red?"

"Yes, I am," she smiled.

He grinned back and bent forward a little to kiss her gently. He smoothed her hair with one hand, the other remaining around her waist. When they pulled apart, he leaned back, shifting down the bed, drawing her with him.

"Now, go to sleep," he told her firmly. "We've got an early start."

"Yes, Mr The Bloody," she answered, smirking a little as she closed her eyes and fell asleep to the feel of his chest beneath her cheek and the steady rhythm of his hand on her hair.

* * *

Anya pulled away from Doyle breathlessly. She gasped a little and he chuckled, straightening her shirt.

"We should stop," she said, her hand running along his jaw.

"I know," he replied, dropping one kiss on her lips. "Why's that again?"

She hummed in delight as he ran his thumb across her stomach and moved from her lips to kiss her neck.

"Because," she started, then slipped a hand around his neck, sliding up to his hair. She gripped a few locks of his dark hair and pulled him away. "Because this could go further."

"Stop me whenever you want, Princess," he answered, leaning in to kiss her again.

She pressed a finger to his lips, but he only grinned and licked it. She shuddered and whimpered, before fixing the frown back on her face.

"I can't sleep with you," she stated. "Because the world might end tomorrow. And while that's a good case _for_ sleeping with you, I don't want to. If only one of us walks out of this town -"

"Hey," he protested, suddenly focusing on something outside of his need for her. "Don't be talking like that, Anya."

"Well, it's true. Right now, I don't want to do this."

"Ok," he made a concentrated effort to remove his hand from her waist and his other hand from the side of her face. She took hold of his hands and gripped them tightly. He took a long, steadying breath. "So, what do you wanna do instead?"

She moved a little, turning to plump up her pillow.

"Sleep," she said.

He nodded, pulling his hands from hers and going to stand up. She grabbed his ankle, but her touch was so light, he didn't realise she had caught hold of him. He tried to swing his leg off the bed, but her grip tightened and he stumbled forward, hanging off the bed with her hand still around his ankle.

He glared at her giggling face from where he hung, hair brushing the floor.

"If you had listened," she gasped out between giggles. "I meant sleep with you. Here, just sleeping. I don't want you to go."

He pushed his hands against the floor, wiggled his foot until she let go and fell to the ground. He stood up, blinking as the blood rushed out of his head. She took advantage of his gentle swaying to take his hands and pull him onto the bed. She tugged the ever present leather jacket from his shoulders and leaned him back.

By time he realised what had happened, he was stretched out, with Anya cuddled into his side, steady breathing telling him she was asleep.

"Ah, well," he whispered, kissing her head. "I could get used to this."

* * *

Buffy put on a final burst of speed and grabbed Faith's shoulder, digging her fingers in and forcing the other Slayer to stop.

"Didn't you hear me calling?" Buffy demanded, as Faith turned around.

"I did," Faith replied defiantly. "I just didn't want another argument."

"I'm not here to argue with you," Buffy said, forcing the hostility out of her voice.

"That makes a change. What _do_ you want?"

"To talk," Buffy said and pushed her onto a wall that had once surrounded a family home. "What are you going to do know."

"No idea," Faith shrugged. "I'll figure it out. Don't worry yourself."

"I'm not," Buffy snapped, then exhaled hard. "Look. You've found out what the Mayor's really like, you can't go back."

"Why not?" Faith asked. "It's the only place I've got."

"You'll go back to a - a thing like that? Because you've got no where else to go?" Buffy said, stunned.

"You haven't lost that edge, B. You can still state the obvious with the best of them."

"I just… Faith, you're a Slayer."

"Yeah. But you're _the_ Slayer. I just got the muscle; you've got the whole duty thing and that. Not me. That's your gig."

"It _was_ ours."

"'Til I screwed up," Faith shrugged. "Why are you even here?"

"Because I think you could help us."

"Help you?" Faith laughed, standing up. "What makes you think I'd want to help you and your little buds, Summers?"

"I think that because there are two sides in this war and you're rethinking your place on Team Evil."

"You have no idea," Faith growled. "You always thought you got me. Understood what made me tick. Looked down that perfect little nose of yours because I had the guts to do all the things you couldn't. I lived and you hated it."

"You lived?" Buffy asked. "Faith, you never lived. You fought, you killed, you screwed. That's no life."

"Try it and see."

"Don't fight me," Buffy warned. "I'm trying to help you."

"Help me?" Faith rolled her eyes. "You should've helped me when I threw myself off a building to get away from you. But I'll bet it never occurred to you to find me and call an ambulance. Get outta my face, B. Better yet, get outta my life."

"What life?" Buffy grabbed Faith's elbow as she pushed past her. "You've got a chance here, Faith. A chance to be a Slayer. To do good, to make amends. Don't walk away from that because if you do… If you do, you'll never be able to come back and you'll wake up one day and wonder how you got in so deep."

"Shut up," Faith whispered.

"Not when there's a chance to get through to you. You came to the mansion for more than answers. I shouldn't have pushed you away when you needed someone. But I'm here now. We used to be friends. The Chosen Two, remember?"

"I remember."

"Don't you want that back? I don't want to fight you tomorrow. I want to fight _with_ you."

Faith looked up, eyes wide. She took a step away from Buffy, shaking her head. She knew what Buffy was asking and she couldn't… The Mayor had done so much for her; she couldn't let him down now.

But the Slayer inside her rebelled, screaming that she couldn't work with someone who was a killer. She herself was a killer, a murderer, but she could change. Here was her chance. It wasn't completely her fault she had descended to this. She got pulled in by something she didn't understand. She thought she could kill and walk away.

It wasn't true.

She didn't tell anyone, not Buffy, not the Mayor about the nightmares. Reliving killing Finch and the professor nearly every night was killing her. Finch had been an accident and she had figured there was no going back. So she plunged into murder and mayhem. And she lost a little bit of herself each time.

She wanted to go back. To the way it was when she first got to Sunnydale, when she thought things could be better. She'd had a taste in Boston, with her Watcher, of what a good life with friends was and she thought she could have it in Sunnydale. It was just a cruel twist of fate that it was her that staked Finch and not Buffy.

And she wanted to make amends for it. For it all.

"What do you want me to do?" Faith whispered.

"Go back to the Mayor," Buffy told her quickly. "Pretend like nothing's changed -"

"Buffy, I can't."

"Yes. You can. Tomorrow, at dawn, we're leaving the mansion. Spike's leaving earlier to kill the vampires working for the Mayor. He was going to the Mayor's place and was going to fight them when the rest of you left. Will that work?"

"I…" Faith frowned. "Yeah. But he'd have to stay in the basement until we left. If he doesn't, he'll be found. The vamps aren't up to much. They've had it too easy for two years. The vampires sleep in the back rooms of the house. He'll find them there. They're not going out to fight, the Mayor wants them to protect his place."

"Good," Buffy nodded. "I'll tell him that. Faith, I want you to just go on like everything's fine. But when the battle starts, that's when I want you with me. Like old times, ok?"

"I - I guess. But, Buffy, what about the Mayor?"

"I'm gonna kill him," Buffy stated.

"How?"

"I've got a plan," Buffy hedged, wary of telling her too much. "Don't worry, I won't ask you to do it. I just want you to watch my back and my friends."

"Yeah," Faith nodded. "I can do that."

"Ok," Buffy took a step back. "Then I'll see you at dawn."

"I'll unlock the basement door," Faith said.

"Thanks," Buffy backed away, turning her back slowly on Faith.

"Hey. B."

Buffy glanced over her shoulder and Faith smiled, a tiny, hesitant smile.

"What?" Buffy asked.

Faith lowered her eyes a little and for a moment, Buffy trusted her whole-heartedly. Faith looked up and met her eyes.

"Thanks."

* * *

Wes rubbed his eyes and yawned. He wasn't going to sleep until Buffy returned. He had to be sure she was all right. By now, he was practically certain he had been wrong. That Buffy had been right, that Faith was trying to trick them.

The mansion was quiet and he glanced at his watch. Spike would have to be up in two hours time to give him chance to get to the Mayor's and inside before daybreak. He was only aware of Spike's duty and that Willow and Tara would be using magick. He didn't know the rest of the plan, Buffy would tell them later. All Wes knew was that Spike was to kill all the vampires at the Mayor's, in case the battle went on into the evening. They couldn't risk the numbers of the Mayor's army swelling towards the end of the fight. He doubted the fight would last that long, but getting rid of the vampires was one way of depleting the Mayor's ranks if they lost and making sure the vamps didn't move on if they won.

Wes wondered if the plan would change when Buffy returned from seeing Faith. He sighed. This was so like Graduation Day. No real plan beyond the fight and he was wary of asking Buffy what she would do to the Mayor. But he trusted her, knew that she would handle it. And she would tell them tomorrow. He had faith in her.

He jumped when the French window creaked open. He turned, seeing Buffy enter and close the windrow behind her.

"You're still here," she said, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"Yes. I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"Just peachy," she answered, sitting down beside him, "Faith's going to help us."

"What do you mean?"

"She's unlocking the basement for Spike in the morning. She's sticking with the Mayor until the fight starts. Then she'll be fighting against him."

"I see," Wes nodded. "And the Mayor, what do you intend to do about him?"

"Blow him up," she answered. "Yeah, I know that didn't work last time, but now I've got three rocket launchers."

"Ah," he nodded. "I'm beginning to look forward to tomorrow," he glanced at his watch again. "We've got two hours until we need to get up. That gives us an hour before dawn for you fill us in on the plan and Spike to leave. Do you think he'll be all right? One of him, God knows how many vampires?"

"Faith said they're not so hot, two years not fighting. He'll be fine. We'll all be fine."

"Good enough for me," Wes yawned.

Buffy stretched and lay down on the bed. She tugged on the sleeve of his shirt and he shot her a quizzical look.

"Stay here," she said. "I think Andrew, Dawn and Tara will have taken over your room. And everyone's in couples in the other rooms."

"Yes, I think they are," he answered and leaned back awkwardly. Buffy yawned, swung an arm across his chest and cushioned her head on his shoulder.

They fell asleep with happy and hopeful expressions. Though tiny voices whispered to them through their dreams of normality.

_But what if this _is_ just a trick…?_


	16. Chapter 16

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Sixteen**

The gentle knocking roused Buffy slowly. She stretched, fingers curling and flexing as her toes pointed and she yawned widely. When she realised that her fingers weren't meeting soft blankets, but warm, breathing flesh beneath cotton, she opened one eye with a frown. She opened the other eye, blinked and groaned.

She was spooned against Wes's side, head in the crook of his arm; one hand pressed against his side as the other slung across his chest. Her fingers were gently stroking the soft cotton of his shirt and she realised that his hand was pressed into the small of her back.

The knocking became more insistent and she felt his stir. His arm moved from the base of her spine and he opened his eyes slowly when he found his arm trapped beneath Buffy.

"Ah," he said, rubbing his eyes with his other hand.

"I second that," she answered, sitting up and shifting across the bed away from him.

"Are you there, Buffy?" Willow called through the door.

"We should go," Wes said softly.

"Uh-huh," Buffy nodded and waited for him to get up before sliding off the bed and crossing the room to open the door. "Hey, Will."

"Hi," Will replied brightly. "Everyone's up," she shot a look over Buffy's shoulder, saw Wes retrieving his glasses from the bedside table and putting them on. "The two of you could shower while we get the weapons out."

"Um, yeah, right. Ok, thanks," Buffy babbled. "Sorry I wasn't up already."

Willow smirked knowingly, pointedly looking from Buffy to Wes as Buffy lowered her face to hide her blush.

"Morning, Wes," Willow called.

"Yes, good morning, Willow," Wes answered.

"Y'know," Willow said, leaning to whisper to Buffy. "If you shared a shower, you'd be finished quicker."

Buffy couldn't fight the grin that crossed her face as her blush deepened. She poked her best friend in the arm.

"Willow!" she hissed, taking her friend's shoulder and turning her, giving her a push in the general direction of the stairs as Willow giggled.

"Are you going to shower, Buffy?"

"What?" Buffy yelped, spinning to stare at Wesley.

"Shower," he said slowly. "I'm going to use the one down the hall. Are you all right?"

"Fine," she forced out. "Just wondering if my plan's going to work."

"Of course it will," he grinned. "It's your plan."

She gave him a weak smile as he opened the door and she heard him walk down the hall, heard a muffled "Ow!" as he stumbled into the table in the pre-dawn darkness.

She shook her head and headed to the bathroom, grabbing a pair of jeans and a shirt from a chair as she passed.

"We go to war and I sleep with my friend," she muttered. "Ok, that sounded worse than it did in my head…"

* * *

They actually looked almost like an army, Buffy noted with a sting of pride as she stood before them a little while later. No one was sitting; they were all standing, holding weapons and waiting for her instructions.

"Ok, guys," Buffy raised her voice a little. "I want to tell you something, but can you not get all shocked and stuff, 'cause we really don't have time," she took a deep breath. "I saw Faith last night," she looked around at the group. There were shocked intakes of breath, but they heeded her words and didn't say another word. "She's… She's going to help us out."

"What?" Dawn cried.

"Buffy, um, not wanting to echo Dawn or anything, but_ what_?" Willow said.

"She finally saw what the Mayor was really like after what he did last night," Wes said. "I was there. I happen to believe her. And Buffy thinks this has something to do with her dream about Angel."

"Oh?" Anya questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"He said Faith has always needed someone," Buffy said. "That was her human weakness. That's why I went after her. If I had a dream about it…"

"We should trust it," Doyle nodded. "So how's the firecracker going to help us out?"

"She's opened the basement for Spike," Buffy explained.

"Yay," he muttered.

"Then she's sticking with the Mayor until the fight, then she'll be fighting with us," Buffy finished.

"What about the Mayor?" Anya asked. "What are Willow and Tara going to do?"

"Well, we thought we'd do this spell Wes told us about," Tara told her. "It boosts everyone's strength. But that's your choice whether you want it or not. Then we'll be watching your backs in the fight."

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm full of the joys of bumping up the strength!" Dawn said, raising her hand to emphasise her point and there were murmurs of assent all round.

"And the Mayor?" Anya pressed.

"I've put a lot of thought into this and I was wondering if Wes and Doyle would help me out…?"

* * *

Spike ran his thumb along the edge of the axe he held and nodded to appease the Slayer. He had heard this twice already. He got it, he really did. But Buffy didn't seem to get that.

"Buffy, I get it," he sighed. "Look, can I go? Got vamps to kill, can't do that if I take a sunlit walk."

"I just want to make sure you really, really get it," Buffy said firmly.

"I _get_ it. Go to the back of the Mayor's house, get in through the basement which L'il Miss Time Bomb will have unlocked. Wait 'til the Mayor's gone and then go to the back of the house and kill 'em all. I _was_ excited about it, but then this whiny little voice took the edge off it."

"Get going," Buffy said, almost smiling at his sarcasm, but frowned instead.

"Yeah, yeah," he called after her as she left to give the final instructions to the rest of the group.

He put his axe on the bottom stair and heaved the barricade to one side. He tugged the heavy door open, grabbed his axe and started to leave.

"Spike!"

He turned slowly, took in a deep shuddering breath as he faced Willow. _No, no, no,_ he resisted the urge to shake his head in time to his thoughts. She smiled nervously and took a hesitant step toward him.

"I've got to be going, Red," he said. "Y'know, sunrise and what not."

"Yeah, but I was thinking more about he impending doom. Y'know, war. You going into the Mayor's alone to fight loads of vampires. Not exactly filling me with the warm fuzzy optimism."

"Loving the support, Will, cheers for that."

"I just meant that…" she sighed. "Good people die. They die all the time and it's not fair. I don't want that to happen to you."

"Won't," he answered stubbornly. "As you pointed out, good people die. I'm not good."

She smiled at that, leaned her head back and came towards him. She stopped, close enough so that he count see the wayward strands of hair that didn't reach her ponytail. But far away enough so that he would have to take a step - one tiny little step - forward if he wanted to touch her. Which he didn't. If he did, he'd kiss her and not let her go until it was too late and he couldn't get to the Mayor's. Couldn't have that happening.

"Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?" she asked softly.

"No," he answered.

"Oh," she took a step back, blushing. He took that one tiny little step forward and grabbed her wrist.

"I'm not saying goodbye, because I'm coming back and so are you," he said forcefully.

"You sound so sure," she smiled.

"'Cause I am," he replied. "We're _all_ coming back. You and Tara will make sure of that with your spells and... stuff."

"We're gonna try," she said, and he almost grinned when she sparked with sudden determination.

"That's my girl."

He couldn't help it. Couldn't have stopped himself even if he wanted to. He bent down, brushing his lips lightly over hers. Leaving himself wanting more of those soft, warm lips and bright red hair.

"I'll see you later, Willow," he said and she nodded.

"See you later too," she answered as he pulled away from her, gripped his axe and strode out into the fading darkness. She stood for a moment, before whispering. "And you are a good guy. I only love the good guys."

* * *

"…Um, tuna. With ham. Maybe some pineapple."

"Eww! Dawn, that's disgusting," Andrew screwed his face up.

"Oh, and chicken and sweet-corn pizza isn't?" she accused.

"Strangely enough when compared to your favourite, I would have to say I'd prefer Andrew's topping," Wes said.

Andrew grinned in triumph as he asked, "So… what ya gonna watch? What's the first thing you're going to watch when we get outta here?"

"_Friends_," Dawn answered immediately. "If only to prove to Doyle that Ross and Chandler are _not_ destined to be together."

"You're wrong, kid," Doyle told her.

"Hey, wanna see the _X-Men_ movie?" Andrew asked. "I'm gonna get the DVD, and I'm gonna get the latest _Star Wars_ too."

"Could be fun," Dawn nodded. "But how do you know that there is another _Star Wars_ out?"

"I can feel it," Andrew said sagely.

"Right," Dawn answered slowly, before turning to Doyle. "So, what are you gonna do when we get out?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. "I guess I could blow my money on a hotel room and mini bar. Bit o' luxury after nearly two years slummin' it."

"That better be a double room," Anya said firmly.

"Of course it will be darlin'," Doyle said, nodding emphatically. "With champagne and those funny little heart shaped chocolates. And…"

"You?" she suggested.

"Well, that goes without saying."

"Yes, but whether you'll be naked and smeared with chocolate is something that needs saying."

The others looked toward Doyle, who blinked at Anya, reminded himself that this was one of the many reasons she was not the girl for him. He felt his cheeks burn and glared at Anya.

"Anya, how about we not go into this here, eh?" Doyle hissed.

The others chuckled as he glared at her, but when she prodded him in the stomach, he smiled too. But that might have been because he had just stumbled upon the idea of chocolate covered Anya.

"Wes?" Anya asked. "How about you? What are you going to do when you get out?"

"I'm not exactly sure," he admitted. "Though I thought I might treat myself."

"Oh yeah?" Dawn asked.

"To what?" Andrew added.

"A motorbike," he said. "A Harley Davidson. With the complete leather attire of course."

"Can you even _ride _a motorbike?" Doyle asked.

"I can as a matter of fact," Wes replied.

"I hear woman like a man in leather on a motorcycle. Is that how you learnt to kiss so well?" Anya asked.

Doyle didn't react for a moment, but then he seemed to register what that meant and turned to her, eyes wide. "You've kissed Wesley?" he asked her, shooting Wes a look. "You kissed Anya?"

"Well, she did force me," Wes muttered.

"No I didn't!" Anya protested. "You said that if I didn't admit I had feelings for Doyle, you'd kiss me."

"Yes," Wes nodded. "So Anya kissing me was really a good thing for you, Doyle."

"Uh-huh," Doyle answered doubtfully. "I guess I'll have to work out that logic after this damned battle."

"Of course," Wes nodded, shooting Anya a glare.

"Do you think they're nearly done?" Andrew asked, a bored note in his voice as he looked up at the ceiling.

"They will be soon," Wes assured him."It's a tricky spell to do. Especially when they're trying to boost the strength of a group this size. It should only be few more minutes. I'm going to find Buffy."

He stood up and strolled out of the room. When the door clicked closed behind them, Doyle grinned at the others.

"Did I have him scared or what?" he asked.

No one said anything and Anya shot him a frown.

"Um, Doyle, honey, you do realise that I _did_ actually kiss him?"

* * *

Buffy was leaning over the balcony when Wes entered her room. He leant over the edge of the balcony beside her, staring across to the horizon where the sun was starting to rise.

"I don't want to disturb you," he started after a short silence. "But everyone downstairs is talking about what they're going to do when they get out. I couldn't bear it."

"Why not?" she asked, not looking at him.

"Forced normality," he replied. "They're trying to pretend there's not a war starting in just under an hour. Trying to pretend they're not terrified. It's commendable. But I'd rather be honest."

"And that means…?"

"That I'm terrified," he admitted frankly. "I think about what's going to happen in under an hour and I can't believe that I'm here, about to do this. In fact, I'm seriously considering taking a sick bucket with me onto the battlefield."

Buffy chuckled.

"Just as long as you share."

"You mean you're…"

"Scared?" she asked, turning to face him. "Yep. I've never walked into a battle when I've never been a little bit scared. But this… It's worse. Because this is the last chance we've got to stop this guy."

"We will," Wes stated.

"It's not just that," she went on. "It's this whole Faith thing. I don't know what to do. What if she's going to dust Spike? Willow will never forgive me for trusting her."

"He can handle himself," Wes said firmly. "And if she turns on us in battle, we can handle it. You don't have to worry," he glanced back into her room, looking for a way to lighten the mood. He suddenly understood why this line of conversation was to be avoided; it scared you far more than you were to begin with. He saw a few of her tops jumbled on a chair by her bed and asked. "Have you packed?"

"Packed?" she shot him a quizzical look.

"Your things," he elaborated. "Everyone else has put their things into bags for when we leave. Have you packed your things yet?"

"No," she answered with a shrug.

"Don't you want to pack anything, for when we leave?" he asked. "Shampoo? A hairbrush? Clean underwear?" he blinked, closed his eyes briefly and opened one eye before asking. "Did I just say underwear?"

"Yep," Buffy grinned.

"Well," he started, searching for a way to amend what he had said. "When I said _underwear_, I _meant _things you wear _under_ sweaters. Y'know, t-shirts and… and -"

"Bras?" she suggested innocently.

"No!" he protested. "I was going to say vests because they, too, can be worn_ under_neath."

"Put the shovel down, Wesley," Buffy said gently.

"Yes. Right," he nodded, turning away from her.

There was a silence as they turned back, leaning over the balcony rail to stare across the small grassy expanse behind the mansion to the dawn beyond.

"Wes?"

"Mmm?"

"About this morning…" she nibbled her lip. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"It's not a -" he stopped suddenly, hands tightening around the balcony rail as though the wind had been knocked out of him.

"Wes?" Buffy asked concerned, grabbing his arms. "Wes, are you ok?"

"Fine," he said, taking a deep breath.

"Buffy!" Willow bounded into the room, pulling Tara after her. "We did it! We did the spell!"

"Yes," Wes said. "I wondered why I didn't feel such a weed anymore."

"So… that's it then," Buffy said, feeling her stomach lurch at the thought. "We're all set."

"Yeah," Tara said hesitantly. "We should… go now, right?"

"We should," Buffy nodded. "Yeah. C'mon, let's go."

"Kick some ass!" Willow added.

But they all knew her chirpy optimism was faked and she was as scared as the rest of them.

The intensity of colour that streaked across the sky was shocking. Golden, pink, purple, a Technicolor dawn. Like some kind of celebration. No one was entirely sure what was being celebrated, maybe the fact that they had actually stepped up to the plate against the Mayor.

They stood outside the mansion for a moment, gathered behind Buffy, weapons held by lax fingers as they all stared in awe at the beauty of sunrise.

Buffy was the first to shake herself out of her reverie. She cleared her throat, drawing the others attention to her. She smiled encouragingly at them.

"You all know what you're doing," she said. "You're all strong, thanks to Willow and Tara. We're going to get this town back, guys. You and me. We're a team, ok? Look out for each other, trust each other, know that we've got two powerful Wiccans watching our backs. We're that snake's worst nightmare, guys. Let's show him why.

"Let's go to war."


	17. Chapter 17

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Seventeen**

Faith slipped down the stairs, glancing back fervently in case the Mayor noticed her absence at the big talk. She reached the bottom of the stairs, turned and jogged quietly down the hall. She reached the basement door and paused uncertainly.

She didn't have to do this; she could leave it locked. Let the vampires in the house kill Spike. It wouldn't upset Buffy, most likely she wouldn't be surprised. She would probably gloat, "I knew we couldn't trust her…"

Faith frowned. She _could_ be trusted. She was going to help them stop the Mayor. Her stomach lurched at the thought and she pushed away the thought. She was going to betray the only person to ever cared about her. She didn't know how that had happened.

The memory of the woman and child being devoured lurched into her mind and she swallowed. It hadn't been a one-off. Oh, God…

She heard thumping from upstairs and realised they were ready to go. She stared at the door, willing herself to make a choice. Unlock the door or turn around and leave. It was that simple.

Only it wasn't. Whatever she did would have consequences and Faith really understood consequences. Her decision now might affect the rest of her life. Whatever she chose to do now would ultimately decide what side she would be on and that wouldn't be something she could change.

"Faith?"

She jumped at the sound of the Mayor's voice. She glanced over her shoulder briefly, heard his voice coming from the stairs.

"Coming!" she yelled back, turning a stricken face to the door.

His footsteps still sounded and suddenly, without even giving it a final thought, her hand grabbed the bolt and yanked it to one side, unlocking the door. She spun around and strode up the hall, almost colliding with the Mayor.

"Hey there," he greeted cheerfully.

"Hey," she answered, forcing out a grin.

"Ready to go kill?" he asked.

She gulped.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

* * *

Funny really, that of all the places in this town, it would be here that they would battle. Buffy's eyes scanned the area.

She hadn't seen this place in two years. The last time she had seen this place, she had been on her knees, screaming beside the fallen body of her Watcher as her lover's dust clung to her clothes and the blood of her friends stained her knees.

Before that, this place had been where she spent everyday, sometimes even weekends if she needed to help Giles research. It had been somewhere she felt safe, even though it was on a Hellmouth. She had always thought that so long as she could get to the library, everything would be fine.

Now, she couldn't even tell where the library had been. There was no sign of Sunnydale High. The only building that rested on the wide expanse of land that once housed the school was a grotesque temple. She guessed that was where the library had been. It was a black marble structure, obscure symbols decorating it, marble snakes with glowing eyes curling around the pillars, mocking her. She wanted nothing more than to knock the thing down, to smash it to pieces. Her fingers tightened on the sword at her side as her other hand took hold of the strap that held her other weapon to her back.

"Buffy," Dawn whispered.

Buffy looked up and saw the shapes of the Mayor's army edging over the horizon. The Mayor rose up in snake form and Buffy thought she could make out Faith at his side. She pressed Dawn back between Doyle and Wes, who took hold of her arms and pushed her behind them. It wouldn't protect her much, but it would hopefully mean she faced nothing too awful.

"Oh, God," Andrew muttered as the opposing army paused in front of them.

She felt warmth spread over her back and looked up for a second to see Willow and Tara rising into the sky, hands clasped tightly between them as their other arms reached out toward the army.

At some unspoken signal, the demons ahead of them thundered forward and Buffy found herself moving without thinking.

The others followed, obviously scared, but fearless in their determination.

And for one glorious moment, Buffy knew without a shadow of a doubt, that they were going to win.

* * *

Spike turned the handle of the door, slipping out into the lavish hallway as he shut the door behind him.

His lip curled as he surveyed his surroundings. Old fashioned carpet stretched to the end of the hall and the walls were painted green. There were dark tables lining the walls, sporting lamps and more gruesome knick-knacks. Spike approached the staircase and climbed it, turning left to head to the back of the house.

He followed his nose, turning around corners, slipping through doors into other hallways, before he found a row of doors.

He smirked. _Bingo._

He sized up the situation quickly. Five doors, probably about three vamps to a room. That's only fifteen, but he couldn't be sure that there weren't any others. So however much he wanted to announce his presence and revel in the fight, he didn't. He opened the first door quietly, stepped into the room and found the nearest bed. His axe connected with the neck of the vampire and it exploded into dust. The next vampire stirred and the axe sliced silently through the air and decapitated it before it could wake. The third vampire, shifted, yawned and sat up, staring at Spike.

"What the fu -?" it started in a loud yell before Spike, well, cut him off.

But the vampire's shout had stirred the vampires in the other rooms. Spike left the room, turning to the next but found himself faced with twelve sleepy, but pissed off vampires. He twirled his axe cockily.

"Sorry, lads, did I wake you?"

There was a collective snarl, before they leapt at him and Spike laughed as he launched himself into the fight.

_Well, Willow,_ he thought, _you can't say I didn't try to easy way._

* * *

The Mayor surveyed the fight with pleasure. He wasn't going to get involved until he needed to. Until then, he was quite content to watch his army take Buffy's apart.

And at first, that's what seemed to be happening. His demons seemed to be steadily gaining the upper hand. But now the Mayor's euphoria evaporated.

He watched as demons fell at the hands of the Slayer's army, watched as grins spread over their faces at the realisation that they were doing well. He could taste their fear and their anxiety, but there was something else. Something that whispered of magick and strength. He looked above the battle to find the two Witches hovering over their friends, casting spells and fireballs at his army. He was about to start forward after them, to take out the Slayer's secret weapon when he noticed something.

He turned his head and gaped at the familiar figure of Faith fighting, a smirk of pleasure on her face.

As her feet connected with the chin of a demon. One of his army.

* * *

Andrew was not a fighter. Despite his many promises that he would help in the war to avenge his brother's death, he still felt like the odd one out. The one that had only joined group training a few days ago. The one that hadn't lived day to day, surviving on rations, weapons and adrenaline for two years.

Which was why he was glad that he had been thrust to the back of the fight. He and Dawn brought up the rear of the battle, so that by time the demon slipped past the others to get to them, the worst had been filtered out.

With a yelp, Andrew ducked the swing arm of something bright red and lumpy, feeling the arm thud against the back of his head with enough force to make him feel sick.

"It's arms!" Dawn screeched. "Watch its arms!"

He straightened up, bringing his sword with him and drove it forward. The demon made a gurgling sound and Andrew yanked the sword out of the demon's throat as it fell to the floor.

It was his first kill and seemed to have kicked in the realisation that he was strong. He was tough; Willow and Tara's spell had worked.

"Watch out!"

He jumped forward, turning to see Dawn lifting up the bloodied sword, a bruised cheekbone for her trouble. He looked down at the demon that had come up behind him and now lay dead.

"Thanks," he said, reaching out his hand.

"No problem," she answered, frowning as she took his hand.

He pulled her sharply toward him, thrusting out his sword and decapitating a short and stumpy demon with razor sharp teeth.

Dawn pulled away from him, gasping. She smiled her thanks and turned to look for a second toward the others.

Satisfied that they were doing ok, she spun, kicking a Fyarl in the jaw as Andrew attacked the other.

* * *

Faith had left the Mayor's side as soon as the battle had started and was skirting the edges of the battle, killing the demons quickly and helping out any of Buffy's army that were in trouble.

Now, she fought back to back with Anya who over her years had picked up a few nifty sword tricks.

"Oh my God," she heard Anya mutter. "Where's Doyle?"

"He's fine," Faith said over her shoulder, before spinning into a kick that sent a slim demon hurtling onto Wes's sword.

Anya heard her, but didn't believe her. She pushed through the demons, hacking blindly at anything that didn't look human. There were husky groans of pain as her sword collided with scales and soft squelching flesh. But her preoccupation with Doyle's welfare blinded her and a demon came out of nowhere and caught her around the waist, slamming her to the ground, knocking her sword from her hand.

"Anya!" she heard Tara call, conjuring a fireball in her hand that launched at the demon's hairy back.

It yelped and Anya pushed against it. It was halfway off her when a boot swung at it and kicked it off her. She looked up and Doyle bent to drag her to her feet. He scooped up her sword and pushed it into her hand.

"I got your back," he shouted over the sounds around them.

Which was the only reason she turned around and faced the battle again.

Tara turned her gaze away from Anya who had launched back into the fight with Doyle at her side. She looked at Willow, whose hand she clasped and saw her glaring at the Mayor.

"Willow," Tara said urgently. "Not yet. Remember? Not yet."

Willow tore her eyes away from the Mayor back to Tara. She smiled weakly at her friend before looking down at the battle below.

"We're doing ok," she breathed.

"Yeah," Tara answered.

"Faith…?"

"Is on our side," Tara jutted her chin in the direction of Faith who was dragging a demon away from Andrew as Dawn helped him to his feet.

Willow nodded, looking down at Buffy who impaled a demon before moving onto the next. Willow sent a bolt of light at a demon that had Wes around the throat. Then she reached over her shoulder to grab the crossbow she had hung there. She pulled it off and turned to Tara.

"Feel like lending a hand?" she asked.

Tara smiled, grabbing the crossbow from her own back.

"Why not?" she answered.

They aimed and fired, hitting two demons, sending them sprawling. Willow spun lightly in the air, aiming with crossbow in one hand and magick in the other. She sent a fireball toward a demon towering over Doyle and smiled in satisfaction as he sliced it in two.

She sent another bolt flying at the same time as Tara, before looking for Dawn and Andrew to check on them.

As she did so, she noticed the Mayor's house in the distance and felt her heart contract. Swallowing her fears for Spike, she sent another bolt of magick to separate a Siamese demon Dawn faced.

She shot another glance in the direction of the Mayor's house.

_God, I hope you're ok._

* * *

Wes wasn't used to this battle-hungry confidence or this strength. But he was starting to like it a whole lot as he caught a demon in the stomach with a well-aimed kick before decapitating it. He took a moment in the lull between attacks to check on Doyle and Buffy, whose extra weapons glinted in the sunlight. He slipped a finger under the strap that held his weapon in place and smoothed it out. Thank God for the spell Willow and Tara put on them to make them lighter. He didn't fancy throwing his back out again. And he most certainly didn't fancy throwing his back out here and now. He ducked a punch and thrust his sword at the demon's chest before his legs crumbled beneath him. He rolled over to avoid the rock like fists of a burly demon that bore down on him.

He tried to roll away from the thing, but found he didn't have to as the demon slumped to the side and collapsed, leaving Faith offering him her hand.

Without thinking he grasped it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet before she disappeared without a word. He looked up, over the flashing swords, bolts of magick, fireballs, demons and his friends, to look for the Mayor.

Who he saw staring at Faith, who cut a bloody swath through his army.

* * *

Buffy was starting to believe that feeling. That rush of knowing that this was going their way. She feinted to the left, before slicing her opponent in half. She took advantage of a spinning kick she aimed at a Skilosh to check on her friends.

They looked a little worse for wear, but Buffy would rather have them injured than dead. But what she noticed most, was the obvious difference in the amount of fallen demons and those still fighting. She looked up at Willow and Tara, who were using crossbows and magick to aid their friends.

She almost grinned, before a troll brought her back to earth literally. She kicked him off and wrapped her feet around his neck, snapping it before leaping up.

She glanced around, saw that though they were winning, they were tiring.

It was now or never.

With one hand, she unclipped the strap that held her weapon to her back, pulled it so that it slid onto her shoulder and dropped her sword to take hold of it.

"Wesley!" she yelled. "Doyle!"

They glanced toward her, nodded and finished off their opponent before dropping their swords and tugging their weapons on their shoulders.

The three of them forced their way through the demons, the path cleared by their friends and Willow and Tara

They came to the edge of the battle and faced the Mayor.

He tore his eyes away from the sight of his Faith fighting against him and staring down at the three humans.

Who were all sporting wicked looking rocket launchers.


	18. Chapter 18

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Eighteen**

The Mayor blinked at the three who faced him. The battle raged on behind them, but there was something oddly silent about the place. As though the sound had been switched off. All Buffy could hear was the shallow, high-pitched wail of the wind as it whistled past her.

The Mayor's attention flickered from them for a moment, to watch the fight behind them.

"How'd you get her to betray me?" he asked conversationally, looking down at them.

Buffy was startled for a second, wondering what he was talking about when he was faced with three rocket launchers. But then it hit her; he meant Faith.

"You did," she called up to him. "After what you did to that woman and child."

He nodded slowly, as though it were no surprise to him.

"I thought there was something wrong with her," he said, then glared down at Buffy, Wes and Doyle. "I know her, you see. You'll never understand her like I do, y'know. She's made a mistake; I won't hold it against her. One day, she'll realise this was wrong. She'll make it up to me."

"Won't that be a little difficult if you're dead?" Wes asked icily.

"Dead?" the Mayor answered, chortling.

"Are you blind, man?" Doyle asked in disbelief. "We're pointing rocket launchers at ya!"

"Oh, those," he said.

His eyes darted to some point beyond them and Buffy opened her mouth to call out the order when he lunged. They turned, following him with their rocket launchers. They heard Anya scream, Doyle call her name. Their eyes followed the Mayor's head as his body sliced through the battle, knocking Dawn and Andrew to one side. Willow and Tara were oblivious, backs to the Mayor as they shot bolts from their crossbows at the demons. The Mayor's mouth snapped open, then slammed down.

Around Willow's waist.

"Willow!" Buffy screamed.

Tara turned with a cry and grabbed for Willow's hand with both of hers. But Willow was tugged away from her as the Mayor's body hit the ground and flew up again, tail snapping around him to peer at Buffy from the middle of the battle. The shock sent Tara tumbling to the ground, where she landed with a thump.

"Tara!" Doyle yelled, starting to make towards her.

But Wes pushed him back, struggling to hold up his rocket launcher with one hand as the other grabbed a handgun from the holster at his side. He took quick, careful aim and a demon that bore down on Tara crumbled to the floor. Dawn shoved another Skilosh to the side and slipped an arm under Tara's hauling her up as Tara stared in horror at Willow. Willow struggled in the Mayor's jaws, his mouth holding her delicately.

"We can't," Doyle said. "We can't shoot him. Not when he's got Will."

"I _know_," Buffy snapped.

"What do we do?" Wes asked, shoving the gun back into his holster and grabbing hold of his rocket launcher with two hands.

Buffy gaped at Wes. Answers, he was looking for answers. She didn't even know the answers. And she was leader. Oh, _God, _she'd screwed up. She looked toward the battle; the demon's were starting to fight back harder, taking advantage of the others shock. They were barely paying attention to the fight, hacking senselessly at the demons before them.

Everyone but Faith.

She was staring up at the Mayor, fists clenched, ignoring everything about her.

"If we shoot him in his… tail," Buffy said, practically babbling in her worry. "He might drop her."

"It's too far to fall!" Doyle cried.

"A broken arm's better than a broken neck!" Wes countered fiercely.

"I'll take the shot," Buffy said, aiming her rocket launcher at the Mayor's tail.

Willow squeezed her eyes shut. Ignoring the rotten stench of the Mayor's breath, ignoring the fact that one tooth slid against her side as it pierced her sweater. She opened her eyes briefly to see Buffy aiming the rocket launcher. She caught her best friend's eye for a second. Willow knew what Buffy was going to do. Willow let her head roll back, bracing herself for the fall. But it didn't come. Instead, she heard Tara scream someone's name.

Faith's name.

* * *

Spike blinked the blood out of his eyes and ducked a blow to the head, unintentionally allowing another vampire to slam a boot into his side. He groaned. He suspected he already had some broken ribs and a good old kicking to them wasn't helping any.

He straightened up, his first curled around a stake and connected to a jaw in a vicious uppercut. He brought the stake down to the vampire's heart and it exploded into dust.

Spike glanced up at the remaining three vampires, two guys and a girl. Usually not too much for him. But right now, Spike was seriously wondering about his options.

"C'mon," he rasped. "Let's get this over with."

As they approached, he swiped out with a clean motion, decapitating the first without trying.

But even he realised it was clumsy; a vague slash in the right direction and it was merely luck that the axe didn't hit the wall instead of the vampire's neck. As he twisted back to face the final two vampires, a boot hit the side of his face and slammed him across the hall into the wall. He groaned, dimly aware of the smudge of blood left as he slid down the wall.

God, he ached all over. If there had been two less vampires than there were, the fight would be over now and Spike could sit there and wait for a while. The others might have turned up for him or he could have rested for a time until he grabbed something to protect himself and strode out into the sunlight.

But there hadn't been two less vampires. That was the whole point. He heard them chortled and blinked away the blood in his eyes to look at them in time to see a fist cut through the air and hit him squarely on the nose, slamming his head back into the wall again.

He had started to breathe, anything to concentrate on to stop himself slipping into unconsciousness. But his eyes refused to comply and shut stubbornly.

Which was probably the best thing that could happen, because a wobbling image of Willow sharpened rapidly in his mind's eye.

He had to get out of this. If he got out of this looking like shit, at least he would be _alive._ And he really wanted to get out of this.

Forcing himself to listen intently, he heard the small sounds of people moving, the sound of clothing scraping over skin. He heard and felt one vampire approach him. His hand tightened around his axe, his feet pressed into the floor. As the vampire's fingers brushed against his shirt to haul him to his feet, Spike pushed himself up, using the wall to support him. He took advantage of the vampire's surprise and slow reaction to bring the axe down sharply and defeat one more opponent. He breathed heavily, looking toward the final stunned female vampire. He lifted his axe, tilted it and swung.

But her frightened expression twisted into a snarl. She caught the handle, twisted it round with sudden speed and force and thrust it into Spike's stomach.

Spike stumbled back into the wall again, sliding down and leaving yet another bloodstain.

* * *

Buffy's attention left the Mayor when she heard Tara scream. She watched as Faith pushed another demon to one side and jumped, strong hands clamping down on the Mayor's lower lip.

"What the hell is she doing?" Doyle demanded.

"Oh my God," Wes muttered, watching wide eyed as the Mayor shook his head, trying to dislodge Faith.

"Take aim," Buffy instructed.

"What?" Doyle gasped.

"Take aim," Buffy repeated. "Faith will save Willow. Be ready to end this. Do it, dammit!"

Exchanging glances, Wes and Doyle took aim and drew in long breaths.

Willow's scream was heard by all below them as the Mayor shook his head wildly.

"Faith!" she screeched. "What are you doing?"

"Saving you," Faith gritted out, hauling herself up, gripping the Mayor's lower lip with one hand, the other pushing against his upper jaw.

The Mayor growled as Willow whimpered. His mouth gave under Faith's strength as she forced it open. She lifted her feet, slamming her boots into the Mayor's scaly flesh, grabbing hold of his upper teeth with both hands and pulling herself up, so that she was holding his mouth open. Willow tightened her desperate hold on the Mayor's lower teeth and cried out as he shook his head.

"Go!" Faith yelled, reaching out a hand to Willow.

Willow grabbed it, fingers trembling and Faith yanked her up, not giving Willow a chance to gain a grip on the slippery pink gums before she pushed her sharply and Willow tumbled backwards as Faith returned her hand to holding the Mayor's mouth open.

Andrew leapt forward, attempting to catch Willow, but only succeeding in being knocked over, cushioning Willow's fall with his own body.

"It's not too late, Boss!" Faith yelled, voice echoing down his throat. "You can stop this! You can stop all this now!"

The Mayor didn't move for a moment. Then suddenly, he snapped his head sharply to the side and slammed his jaws shut. Faith was dislodged and the power behind his shake of his head sent her banging into the Hellmouth temple. Her head cracked against it, her eyes shut and she slid down the marble into a heap on the ground.

"Move!" Buffy yelled.

The others scrambled away from their fights, pushing and shoving their way to the perimeter of the battle. Tara held up Willow and Dawn supported Andrew.

"Now!" Buffy cried.

The rocket launchers exploded in unison. Faith's eyes fluttered open once more to see her Boss blown to a million pieces before she slipped into unconsciousness.


	19. Chapter 19

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Nineteen**

Author's Note: I do not own the poem the Mayor recites. It's _Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night_ by Dylan Thomas, and I don't own the movie _Hook_ either.

* * *

Spike gasped, his cut lip spraying blood down his chin. His fingers stiffened, the stake slipping from his hand and landing with a clatter dulled by the folds of his leather duster. He stared up at the female, who was watching him with a smirk. He grabbed the handle off the axe and cried out in pain as he yanked it from his stomach. He pressed his hands to the wound that ripped across his middle.

"You shouldn't have come here," the female said. "A silly thing to do, really. The Mayor will win and your trouble will have been for nothing," she sank down before him, frowning. "I really don't understand though. You're a vampire, a _famous_ vampire, why are you fighting us?"

"I don't… suppose you heard about… the military," Spike spluttered, eyes slanting toward the stake.

"Yes," she nodded, smirking. "I wasn't particularly happy about the way they tasted. Experiments, I heard. On you, I suppose?"

"Got it in one," Spike said, one hand slipping from his wound as it crept toward the stake.

"Dear, dear," she tutted. "Awful thing. To force you to the side of good. You should have come here, Spike. I've heard things about you, we could have done with someone like you on our side."

"I chose my side," Spike snarled.

"Yes, I suppose you did," she mused, standing up slowly. "It's a shame really," she walked past him and crossed the hall to draw the heavy green drapes to one side. "It's awful that I've got to do this. I've never killed a vampire before. Now, you probably won't be able to move for a while, I'm quite proud of the job I did on your gut. The sun will flood this hall in a few hours. I've heard the stories about you; it's an awful way to go for a Slayer of Slayers like you. But… needs must."

She started to walk away, toward the door at the end of the hall. Spike leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as he forced his fingers to grip the stake. As she drew level with him, Spike thrust his leg out, moaning as it wrenched his gut wound. She stumbled, slamming into the floor. She growled, turning to him in game face.

"I don't suppose," Spike gritted out, forcing himself to his feet. "You heard that whatever I start, I finish."

She pushed herself up, chuckling.

"You have finished," she said, "You've finished yourself."

She scooped the bloody axe from the floor and lunged at him, axe raised. Spike caught her wrist, squeezed and twisted, her cries sounding over the crunch of breaking bones and the clang as the axe fell to the floor. He let go of her wrist and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off her feet.

"Wrong, pet," he hissed. "I'm not finished yet."

She whimpered, game face sliding away to reveal a pleading expression. But he ignored it and lifted his stake, pushing it through her heart. The fingers that had been around her neck faltered slightly as she exploded into dust.

With a groan, he lowered himself to the floor and kicked half heartedly at the dust.

"But you are," he muttered, closing his eyes.

* * *

Buffy dropped her rocket launcher and ran in the direction of the marble temple, feet sliding in the mushy remains of the Mayor. She skidded to a halt before Willow, sank to her knees and took her friends hands. She looked at Tara and Andrew, assuring herself they were fine, before she noted the cut on Dawn's head. "Are you ok?" she asked.

"Fine," Dawn sighed, leaning against Andrew.

"Willow," Buffy said in a low voice. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Willow nodded slowly, voice oddly distant. "I'm ok. I'm just… I was in his mouth and then…Faith? Is Faith ok?"

"I don't - " Buffy started, glancing around, watching as Wes and Doyle dropped their rocket launchers and joined the others trudging across the abandoned battlefield toward them. Her gaze hardened into a glare as she looked toward the temple. Then her gaze fell on the crumpled, bloodied heap at its base. _Oh, God…_

"Buffy, what…?" Willow followed her line of vision, gasping as she saw Faith. "Oh, no."

Buffy struggled to her feet, hearing the others scramble after her. Buffy stumbled over dismembered demon bodies, pieces of the Mayor and abandoned weapons.

Faith didn't hear Buffy or the others. But she was quite aware of what was going on.

* * *

"Hey," she said, slipping her thumbs into the belt loops of her jeans as she sauntered nonchalantly toward her companion. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Yes, it is a little odd, isn't it?" the Mayor agreed, peering around the empty grey space.

"Look, Boss," Faith sighed, lowering her eyes. "I'm sorry about…"

"Ah, forget it," the Mayor shrugged, waving his hand. "I understand."

"You do?" Faith looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

"Well of course," he grinned. "I always knew this would happen," he sighed, walked towards her, placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. "You're a Slayer. I've been around for a long time and I know about Slayers. You never would've lasted as a Black Hat. You would have returned to the good side or the darkness would have destroyed you. I never wanted that for my little firecracker."

"I don't get it…"

"No, of course you don't. You're too young to understand. But I suppose you did a good thing. Not what I hoped would happen, but that's life. Or not, seeing as I'm dead now."

"So does that mean I'm… dead?" Faith took a step back from him, swinging around in a complete circle to take in the nondescript room. "This is what death is? Some empty room for eternity? Or is this Hell?"

"Hell?" the Mayor laughed. "No, Faith, this isn't Hell. This is what you might call Limbo. I'm dead, but you're not. Not yet."

"Am I going to die?" Faith asked in a small voice.

"If you did, firecracker, it's not such a bad thing. You ever see _Hook_, Faith? Death is the next great adventure. That's what Captain Hook said. Great man. So you see, Faith, it doesn't matter. Life, death, it's not a big deal. You don't stop. You just change."

"So I am going to die then?" Faith asked. "Can't see any other reason why you'd come out with all that."

"Head injuries are tricky things," the Mayor said sadly. "And you damaged your head two years ago when you fell from the building. You might be a Slayer, but you're only mortal."

Faith turned her head away, eyes shining. She didn't want to die. Oh God, she didn't want to die, not now.

"Don't I even get to say goodbye?" she asked. "They probably won't care, but I do. So much to say…"

"So little time," the Mayor nodded. "But why not? Anything my girl wants," he took her by the elbow, steering her in one direction. "She gets. But I guess I oughta say goodbye now. I won't be here when you get back. I'm taking the elevator to the basement. Oh, don't look so shocked. And don't you worry; you were never a truly bad girl, Faith, just misunderstood. By everyone but me. I understand you. I always have and I always will."

"I know," she said, glancing back at him. "I'm sorry, Boss. I had to choose."

"And you stayed true to yourself, good for you."

"Thanks."

"Now go on," he gave her a nudge and she took a step forward, felt the world shimmer around her. "And Faith?"

"Yeah?"

"_Rage against the dying of the light_. Don't end up back here if you can help it."

He turned away from her, walking in the opposite direction as Faith carried on in hers. Behind her, she heard the fading cheeriness of the Mayor's voice.

"'Do not go gentle into that good night, Rage, rage against the dying of the light…'"

* * *

She felt warm, sticky hands on her face when she came to. She saw concerned faces hovering over her, saw the sunlight glint off glasses as blue eyes frowned at her.

"Faith. Can you hear me?"

"Wha…?"

"Wes, is she ok?"

"I don't know," Wes pulled away doubtfully.

Faith's head and ribs ache. Her spin felt like it had gone a few rounds with a sledgehammer. Her vision was doubled and blurred and she felt sick to her stomach. She forced her eyes open as they slipped shut and peered at the group, trying to find Buffy.

"B?" she croaked.

"Yeah?" Buffy's voice was soft and Faith felt Buffy's hand slip into hers. Faith's hands felt frozen; she could barely move them for the cold. Why was she so cold? "It's going to be fine," she heard Buffy say. "We're going to make sure you're ok."

"Too hard to rage," Faith muttered. "Go gently…"

"Faith, c'mon, stay awake," Buffy urged, her voice verging on high-pitched desperation.

"Not this time," Faith answered. "Coma or bust, B. I'll go for bust."

"Oh no you don't," Buffy snapped.

"It's not so bad… Little bit grey… So what's new?"

"Faith - no! Don't close your eyes! Stay awake!"

"Just wanted to say g'bye, B. Sorry for… everything."

"Don't be sorry," Buffy gritted out. "_Don't_ _be sorry_. That's giving up. Fight, Faith, that's what you've always been good at."

"Sorry, Buffy… Hope you had fun. Was it fun?"

"Kinda," Buffy admitted tearfully. "I guess you had fun."

"Always."

"Wes," Buffy sniffed hard and blinked away tears, looking over her shoulder at him. "Wes, can't you _do _something?"

"I'm sorry, Buffy…" Wes answered. "She's already had a head injury…. There's nothing I can do…"

"It's all right," Faith rasped. "It's fine. Poetic justice…"

"Faith?" Buffy's fingers clenched on Faith's jacket as her eyes closed. "Faith? _Faith!_ Wake up! Wake the hell up! No! You don't get to do this! You're the pain in my ass, dammit! Wake up!"

"Buffy," Dawn said, touching her screeching sister's shoulder.

"No," Buffy whispered.

"Oh, Goddess," Willow breathed, turning her head away and closing her eyes. "It's all my fault."

"Sssh, sweetie," Tara said, pulling Willow into a hug. "It's not your fault."

"Come on, Buffy," Wes said in a low voice and tugged gently on Buffy arm, shooting Dawn a glance.

"Buffy, please," Dawn said, taking her sister's other arm, attempting to pull her away from Faith's bruised body. "She's gone, Buffy. She's gone."

"I know," Buffy murmured. "Oh God."

She allowed her sister and Wes to pull her to her feet and away from Faith.

"What do we do?" Anya asked.

"We should… We should go to the Mayor's, find Spike," Willow stated, eyes never leaving Faith.

"Yeah," Doyle nodded,. "We should, uh… Take Faith somewhere."

"Yeah," Buffy nodded. "I'll go find Spike and could you guys… take her to the garden? With the others?"

"Of course," Wes nodded, gave Buffy's arm a reassuring squeeze and elbowed Doyle.

Doyle frowned at him, then caught his look. He pulled his arm from around Anya's waist and dropped a kiss on her forehead before helping Wes lift Faith's body.

Buffy watched her friends' go, Faith's body slumped and broken between Wes and Doyle.

She didn't know why it hurt, she had thought she hated her. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Faith had been trying to do the right thing, had been looking for redemption. Maybe Buffy had always hoped that Faith would realise it was a mistake, it just hadn't occurred to her that if it did happen, it would end so unfairly.

It wasn't fair that Faith chose the side that killed her.

Buffy sighed, rubbing her shoulder that ached after the rocket launcher's weight. She turned away and paused for a moment to stare across the battlefield.

"Oh… wow."

Buffy glanced at Willow who had joined her, also staring at the aftermath of the war.

The battlefield glittered in the early morning sunshine, glinting off the gore and slime. The horizon broken by crumpled demon bodies and chunks of the Mayor. Axes remained embedded in flesh and soil, swords lay broken, rocket launchers lay like metal logs and bolts scattered across the ground.

"I'm coming too," Willow said firmly, breaking the silence and turning to face her friend.

Buffy smiled, too tired to argue and allowed her best friend to walk beside her in companionable silence.


	20. Epilogue

**_Brave New World_**  
**Chapter Twenty: Epilogue**

Author's Note: I took a little bit of inspiration from _Chosen_ as to the vehicle the guys leave town in. It's really the only way to travel. Plus, a little inspiration from the Angel-verse...

* * *

Buffy kicked the door and it caved under her foot. She turned to Willow who hesitated at the doorway. Nibbling her lip, Willow entered the house, limping slightly.

The décor was dark and outdated. Heavy drapes, dark wood furniture and vases that were probably worth a whole ton of money. Buffy grabbed a hold of one and dropped it to the floor. Willow shot her a quizzical look and Buffy shrugged.

"It was ugly," she muttered, crunching the shards as they crossed the hall to the stairs.

Buffy went slightly ahead and Willow resisted the urge to yell out Spike's name. Her hands shook and she twisted them together to make it less obvious. She followed Buffy silently, mind half on Spike, while the other half wondered if the guys had reached the old Summers' house yet.

She shot Buffy a look. She had been a little surprised to hear Buffy say they would bury Faith there. Buffy was fiercely protective of that tiny plot of land. Willow understood that. Her friends were buried there, people she loved. But she had gained a whole new understanding of Buffy's protectiveness when Oz was buried there.

She gulped hard. Here she was, upset that Faith had died to save her and terrified that Spike might be dust. She always thought that when they won, she would be thinking about Oz. And she was, a little. But there was only so much room in her head.

I wonder if he'd understand about Spike. I wonder if he'd think it was a good thing. He would, wouldn't he? I mean, Spike looks out for me, Spike cares about me. Oz would want that, right? He wouldn't have wanted me to go on like I did before Spike turned up. He would've hated that.

She would have hated it too. She wouldn't have seen the point of a life lived in the grief of losing the man she loved. She would have hated herself for it. When the initial shock of Oz's death wore off, she tried really hard to go back to being the old Willow. She never succeeded and she hated herself for that because she knew Oz wouldn't want it.

"Willow," Buffy whispered.

Willow's head snapped up and she let out a cry as she saw Spike slumped in a bloodied heap at the end of the hall. Pushing passed Buffy, she ran toward him, mindless of her aching leg.

"Spike," she said, sinking to the floor beside him. She rolled him over gently and swallowed a cry of horror. "Spike?"

His eyes were bruised and swollen, but he forced them open. Dried blood on his lips cracked as he attempted a smile. His "Hey, Red," was lost in a coughing fit. He pushed her back a little bit and forced himself into a sitting position.

"I'm fine," he rasped.

"You look like hell," Buffy commented with a frown.

"You too," he retorted.

"Will you quit it?" Willow snapped, as she gently pried the fabric of his shirt from his already healing stomach wound. "You might make yourself worse."

"I don't think I could get much worse, love," Spike answered, then turned his gaze to Buffy. "So what happened out there, Slayer? I heard a great big boom, but that was it. Anything I should know?"

Buffy shrugged.

"We all got out ok," she told him. "Except…"

"'Cept who?" Spike demanded. "Who didn't get out?"

"Faith," Buffy whispered.

"Faith?" Spike frowned. "What…? How'd that happen?"

"She was saving me," Willow said quietly. "The Mayor got me -"

"Got you?" Spike cried, grabbing her hands to pull her nearer. "What do you mean? Are you all right? Did the bastard hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Spike," she answered. "Faith got me out. I just hurt my leg a little in the fall. When he… dropped Faith, she hit the temple on the Hellmouth."

"Head injury," Buffy added. "There was nothing we could do," she lowered her head and there was silence before she looked up again. "How are we going to get you out of here?"

"Don't tell me Dick hasn't got a posh motor?" Spike asked.

"Probably," Willow nodded. "But I can't drive with my leg..."

"I can," Buffy said, false brightness in her voice. "I'll go see if I can find a car and you can help Spike downstairs."

When Buffy was safely out of earshot, Willow grimaced.

"If the battle didn't kill us," she confided in Spike. "Buffy's driving will."

Spike laughed gently and Willow smiled, hugging a little too tightly. But he wasn't complaining.

* * *

"You've got to be kidding me," Willow said, eyeing the bright yellow Sunnydale High school bus with trepidation.

"He had another car," Buffy said. "But I don't think we'd all fit into a four seater.

"But why would the Mayor keep a school bus?" Willow asked.

"Don't ask me to fathom the inner workings of an evil genius's mind. And don't ask me to fathom the Mayor's mind either. Come on, we need to get Spike patched up back at the mansion."

Willow had to agree with that as she turned away from the door to get Spike. He was huddled in the shadows behind the door, with a black blanket around his shoulders. Willow kneeled down in front of him with a small smile.

"You think you can run to the bus, Spike?" she asked.

"Why not?" he asked. "Only got a couple of scratches."

She rolled her eyes at his macho pride and helped him to his feet. She tugged the blanket over his head and opened the door wider. He bolted across the short distance between the door and the bus and leapt inside, yelping. Willow followed, helped him pat out a few smoking patches on his pants before following him to a seat.

"Try not to bleed on the seats, Spike," Buffy called sweetly and Spike growled in reply.

Willow nestled under Spike's arm, inhaling the warm scent of his leather coat, pleasantly surprised at Buffy's driving skills.

That is, until they lurched to a violent halt causing Willow and Spike hit the rail in front of them.

"Jesus, Slayer!" Spike yelled. "You call that driving? My mother could drive better than that and she'd never even seen a car. You - hey, what the hell are you doing?"

But Buffy wasn't listening, she was getting off the bus and Willow stood up to watch her clamber over the bodies littering the battlefield.

"Bloody hell," Spike breathed with a low whistle "You lot did all this?"

"Yeah," Willow answered distractedly as she saw Buffy stop and bend up to retrieve something.

When Buffy straightened up again, she clutched a rocket launcher. Spike turned his gaze away from the bodies to see Buffy reloading it with the spare ammunition they had attached to the straps, just in case.

"Uh, Will. Buffy doesn't have a history of blowing up sexy vampires and their gorgeous girlfriends after battle, does she?"

Willow smiled at him, the compliment making her blush. Then the fact that he wasn't joking hit her.

"Well, no," she said. "But she does have a history of being mean or running away."

"So she could be going through a mean patch," Spike nodded. "And she's waving around the heavy artillery. Why is this making me -"

But he was cut off by the sound of an explosion. Willow screeched and ducked down, feeling the bus rock a little. She sat up slowly to see Buffy drop the rocket launcher and walk back to the bus.

The Hellmouth's temple lying in an ugly pile of rubble behind her.

* * *

Buffy hadn't expected the mansion to be so quiet. But quiet it was. Silent as the grave.

She shuddered at the very thought. Helping Willow support Spike, she pushed open the door into the living room with her foot. The others turned slowly to see them enter. When Spike was dropped carefully onto the couch, Wes and Tara set about cleaning and binding his wounds as Willow fussed and comforted. Bags were piled in the corner of the room. Everyone was sporting bandages of some kind and the blood and grime had been showered from their bodies and hair.

Unable to bear the weight of anti-climax, Buffy left the room to shower, followed shortly by Willow and Spike.

The silence had not abated by the time the three returned. When the door clicked shut and they sat down, Dawn finally broke the silence.

"What now?" she asked.

"We leave Sunnydale," Buffy answered simply.

"And go where?" Dawn asked. "Would we all go to different places or would we go somewhere together?"

The idea that they would split up and go their separate ways was a horrifying thought that knocked Buffy for six. She had spent two years with these people, outside of her sister, they were her family. She had no one else. She didn't want them to split up.

"I don't want us to split up," Anya said and Buffy shot her a grateful look for voicing her thoughts. "We've spent so long together. I thought we were a family? Families stick together!"

"She's right," Doyle agreed, earning himself a grin and a kiss. "We're all we've got."

"Yeah," Andrew nodded. "So I say we stick together," he raised a hand. "Everyone in favour say aye."

And to Buffy's amazement, every hand went up and a chorus of "ayes" rang around the room. She grinned at her friends, felt relief explode inside her chest at the thought that they weren't going to leave her.

"So…" she said. "Where should we go?"

"How about Las Vegas?" Andrew suggested. "We could win big and get a condo in Florida!"

"Where the sun worshippers live," Spike replied. "Something tells me I wouldn't be happy there."

"It would really depend on what we were going to do," Wes said. "I mean, we'd need jobs, I don't think the military would agree to drop food supplies into our backyard. And there is the demon issue. Will we go on fighting them?"

"We don't have a choice," Tara said. "We know the evil's out there, I don't know about you guys, but I couldn't just ignore it."

There were murmurs and nods of agreement.

"And we can't go far," Willow pointed out. "We've only got the school bus."

"Well, how about this for a crazy idea," Doyle started. "LA. Just throwing it out there."

"LA?" Anya asked, frowning. "How is that crazy?"

"I'm getting there, Princess. Buffy, you remember that Riley guy, right?"

"Yeah," Buffy nodded.

"He said that the military would be willing to help us get back on our feet when the Sunnydale situation was dealt with, right? Kind of like a payment for saving so many civilians?"

"Yeah, he said that."

"Well, why don't we call in the favour? Go to LA and set up our own business."

"As what, exactly?" Wes asked.

"Demon hunters!" Doyle said, waving his arms. "C'mon, we're qualified. Anya here's good with the money stuff. You're book guy, Willow's the computer whizz and a witch. Tara's a witch too and I think today proved we're all good with weapons. Look, I lived in LA for a long time. There's a lot of helpless people there, what d'ya say to helping them?"

"So what you're suggesting is that we charge people to help them," Spike mused, slow grin spreading across his face. "That's genius!"

"That's a great idea!" Anya cried, grabbing hold of Doyle in a tight hug. "I always knew you only _played_ dumb!"

"It's a little unethical," Wes pointed out. "But I suppose it wouldn't be too bad if we only charged those that came to us for help and saved those in Doyle's visions for free. It _would_ keep a roof over our heads."

"And we'd be saving the world," Dawn added. "I think it's a cool idea. Plus, LA, think of the shoes, Buffy!"

Buffy had to admit, she was starting to warm to the idea. It meant they would all stick together and would be doing what they did best.

"And hey, I know just the place for the premises!" Anya cried. "There was this old hotel that nobody wanted. It's called the Hypy - Hyperd, no… The Hyperion, that's it. It's got loads of rooms and offices downstairs -"

"How do you know all this?" Doyle asked.

"I broke in when I had no where else to stay," she shrugged. "It's got offices too. It might be a bit possessed, but we can sort that out for the price of an Orb of Thesulac and a few herbs."

"Cool," Andrew breathed.

"So, I guess it's decided then, huh?" Willow asked. "We call in a favour from the military, buy ourselves a haunted hotel and set up shop."

"Yeah, I guess it's decided," Buffy nodded. "The military dropped one of those satellite phones with the other stuff, I'll see if I can call 'em. You guys rest and we'll get the bus loaded up this evening."

There were nods as everyone rose to leave the room, leaving Buffy rummaging around for the phone. When she found it, she called the number already installed.

"Oh, hello. Uh, this is Buffy Summers, in Sunnydale?… Yeah, the Sunnydale Situation… Look, it's over and we're looking to get out. You soldier guys made me and my friends a promise… That's the one… Well, if you don't believe me, send one of your helicopters's to check out where the old school is. The big green bits are the Mayor… What do I want? Well, we're going to set up a business in LA and we're looking to buy a hotel… Yeah, I've got one in mind. My friend said it's been empty for years… The Hyperion, that's the one…. We're leaving tonight, so if you could sort it out as soon as possible… Thanks, I always knew you military guys were underestimated… Thanks, bye."

Buffy put the phone down with a smile.

"You sorted that out quick."

She turned to grin at Wesley.

"Yeah, well, we're leaving tonight, we're gonna need a place to go as soon as possible. And I think he was scared I'd go to the media if he didn't stick to the promise. I can't believe I'm trusting Anya on this. What if this Hyperion place is falling apart?"

"Then it'll be just like home," Wes answered, tapping the wall where a chunk of plaster was missing. "Anyway, you know Anya, she's always right about property. I'm willing to bet that she went around with a tape measure, making plans about opening it up when she had the money. She probably thought it would be a good little earner."

"You're right. And if it's a hotel, it means we've all got a place to stay."

"And I won't have to share with Andrew. I won't, will I? Even if there's only one room, for the love of God, don't make me share with Andrew."

"Well, if you've got no where else to go, you can always share with me," Buffy said.

"Then I hope for my sake that the place _is_ falling down," Wes grinned, turning to leave Buffy to her surprise and blushes.

* * *

"You know, I bet you don't even remember where this hotel is," Wes said to Anya who was running around looking for her hair brush.

"Of course I do!" she retorted. "It's a great big building, not an itty bitty hair brush!"

Wes rolled his eyes and left Anya to her search, bumping into Dawn in the hallway.

"Why are you bouncing?" he asked her.

"Because the general person of the military just called Buffy. He said that they've bought the Hyperion and it's all in Buffy's name. But there's like this whole clause about the media. So if Buffy goes on Oprah to talk about what happened here, they're gonna take the hotel away. Good job Buffy doesn't like Oprah, huh?"

"Yes," Wes nodded. "I guess it is. Finished packing?"

"Yep, just helping to load up the bus now. Hey, go tell Buffy to pack. She hasn't touched her stuff yet."

He nodded, stepped aside to let Dawn scurry past and knocked on Buffy's door.

"Come in."

He entered the room and was knocked backwards into the wall. He tugged on Buffy's arms in an effort to clear his airway; she let him go with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, got a little bit excited," she said. "But, Wes, they bought the hotel! It's in my name! I own property!"

"So I heard," he nodded. "I'm here to ask you not to go on Jerry Springer."

"Huh?"

"The clause about the media."

"Oh right. But I wouldn't do that, it's not like anyone would believe me."

"True. You do have the look of a mad woman."

"Listen, buster," she said, shooting him a mock glare. "You're not super strong anymore, remember?"

"I know," he answered ruefully.

"Oh yeah, did Doyle talk to you? About the whole kissing Anya thing?"

"He did," Wes nodded. "It was all very manly. He said he'd hit me if I did it again, but he knows I won't. Between you and me, I doubt he hits very hard anyway."

Buffy chuckled.

"So you're not going to kiss her again? Anya, I mean."

"Nope. For one thing, I don't like Anya like that. She's very attractive, don't get me wrong, but she's not for me. And she's got Doyle. So, alas, I remain alone."

"Wait 'til we get to LA, bet you won't be alone for long."

"But there'd still be a problem."

"What problem?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to make you jealous, would I?"

He grinned at her and she frowned.

"Why do I get the impression that you're flirting with me?" she asked.

His grin faded and he reverted to the awkward Wes of a couple of years go immediately. _Woah,_ Buffy thought, _nought to nerd in under three seconds._

"Maybe because I am," he shrugged, though kept his head bowed, "Sorry."

"Don't be," she answered impulsively, grabbing his arm when he made to leave. "I… I like it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. If I didn't, I would've hit you by now."

"That's true," he hesitated for a moment, before he glanced at the hand still on his arm. She started to pull away, but he took her hand and pulled her closer. She tilted her head back, tiptoeing a little as he bent forward.

"Buffy, are you done yet?" Dawn asked, bounding into the room.

"Uh, yeah," Buffy answered, stepping back from Wesley.

But Dawn didn't notice, merely grabbed her sweater and left.

"You ought to pack," Wes said, turning to leave.

"No way," Buffy answered. "Have you any idea how out of fashion all this is," she grabbed a sweater and tossed it to one side with a grimace. "I'll have to get new stuff," she smiled shyly. "And you'll have to help me."

"I will?" he asked.

"Yes!"

He grinned at her and started to leave. But she grabbed a hold of him again, yanking him back into her arms to plant a swift kiss on his lips.

"This would be when Dawn comes in again," he whispered, his breath over her lips sending a shiver down her spine.

"My sister has no sense of timing," Buffy answered. "So I guess we'll have to pick this up in LA."

He pulled back from her, nodding.

"It's a deal," he agreed, going to the door.

"Wes?" Buffy called, he glanced over his shoulder, as she continued. "I've got dibs on the left side of the bed."

"Good job I prefer the right," he answered and the left the room.

Buffy smiled and sank down onto her bed with a happy giggle.

* * *

Faith's grave was a mound of earth at the end of the row of graves marked by crosses. Andrew handed Buffy the cross he had put together and Buffy pressed it into the ground. The name was scrawled across it untidily, but it was the thought that counted.

"I can't believe we're leaving them," Dawn whispered.

"We're not," Willow answered, eyes shining as she stared at Oz's grave. Spike's arm tightened around her in reassurance as she went on. "They never left us. They're always here, Dawnie. You don't have to worry about that."

Buffy sniffed as she placed a hand on her mother's grave. She straightened up to hug her sister, feeling Wes's arm wind around her waist.

"She's right," Buffy said. "They wouldn't want us to stay here. They'd be coming along."

"I know," Dawn nodded.

They stood in silence for a time, saying silent goodbyes to their friends. They turned at some unspoken word and walked slowly back to the bus. Anya tucked safely under Doyle's arm, Spike's arm around Willow who held Tara's hand. Dawn was leaning on Andrew and pretended - with a small smile - not to notice the gentle kiss Wes dropped on her sister's head.

Nobody looked back as Doyle drove them away from the Summers' house.

* * *

It was dark when they reached LA and after an argument about directions between Anya and Doyle, they reached what to be their new home. They piled out and stared up at the huge hotel as a soldier stepped out from the shadows.

"Is one of you Buffy Summers?" he asked.

"That's me," Buffy said, stepping forward.

"Graham," he introduced himself. "I'd like to congratulate you on a fine job in Sunnydale. We sent a team out to clear up. You did a good job."

"I had a lot of help," Buffy answered, glancing at her friends.

"Well, here's the keys. There was a Thesulac demon in residence, but we cleared it out. The electricity and water's all on. It's ready to go."

"Wow, you people work fast."

"It's our job, ma'am. Can I ask, why'd you want this place?"

"I had it on good authority that this would be the perfect place for our business."

"She means I told her," Anya called over.

"What kinda business you setting up?" Graham asked.

"We're helping the helpless of Los Angeles," Andrew said enthusiastically, miming a punch. "Kicking demon butt and saving the damsels in distress!"

"Uh-huh," Graham answered, nodding at Andrew's one man show. "Well, good luck with that."

He nodded to Buffy and to the group before walking past them and out onto the street. Dawn grabbed the keys from Buffy and ran across the courtyard to the front doors. She swung them open with a flourish and sought the light switch. The lights flickered on and she gasped.

"This is so cool!" she proclaimed as the others followed her inside.

"Coming?" Wes asked.

"Give me a minute?" she replied.

"Of course," he nodded and went inside, laughing at Andrew's attempts to tap dance on the marble floor.

Buffy took a deep breath and sighed.

_"And, honey? Try not to get kicked out?"_

_"Well, we could grind our enemies into talcum powder with a sledgehammer, but, gosh, we did that last night!"_

_"You would look _way_ 007 in a tux…"_

_"We attack the Mayor with humus."_

_"I love you. I try not to, but I can't stop."_

_"And I myself will be wearing pink taffeta as chenille would not go with my complexion. Can we _please_ talk about the Ascension?"_

_"We're Slayers, B. The Chosen Two."_

As the final voice echoed through her mind, Buffy smiled. Because Willow had been right. She hadn't lost any of them.

She remembered the scent of her mother's hair, the way Xander would crack into a goofy grin. She could draw Oz's stoic, knowing expression. She could describe in detail the way Giles would frown at her. And she would _never_ forget the way she felt when Angel told her that he loved her.

So it was all going to be ok. Because she'd never forget any of them. Ever. And she still had her family.

She stood up from the stone bench she had sat on and watched the others for a moment, skating across the floor in their socks, shrieking and laughing.

"Wrong, Faith," she whispered to the wind. "We're the Chosen Nine."

And she stood up slowly, left her grief; her guilt and pain behind her as she went into the hotel, slipped her hands into Wesley's and joined the others on the makeshift skate rink.

And suddenly, Buffy Ann Summers was no longer tired of life.

* * *

**_The End._**


End file.
